


Black Leather meets Crimson Steel

by mycitruspocket



Series: Of Bikes and Brollies [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Biker Lestrade, Cooking, Domestic, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Getting Together, M/M, References of Doctor Who and Football, Suit Porn, Unresolved Sexual Tension Until It's Resolved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-06 05:28:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 24,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mycitruspocket/pseuds/mycitruspocket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story in which Mycroft Holmes and Gregory Lestrade are changing each other's lives, or how black leather and crimson steel are melting together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Miscalculation

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you goes to Tamsyn and Erasmus_Jones, who are saving you from various misspellings of any kind!
> 
> If you like this series, check out ["Past and Future Facets of Of Bikes and Brollies"](http://archiveofourown.org/series/41605) for all the little drabbles I write in this verse.
> 
> The pretty covers are a gift from the wonderful [notluvulongtime](http://notluvulongtime.tumblr.com). Find the original post [here](http://notluvulongtime.tumblr.com/post/82474432070/happy-early-birthday-since-its-on-the-13th#) on tumblr. Thanks again, they are perfect (and this one is oh so hot...).
> 
> Isayunara started to translate this story into Chinese, you can find the first chapters [here!](http://isahwfeng.wix.com/yunara#!to-date-or-not-to-date/c123m)

__

 

_~ Mycroft's POV ~_

Mycroft knew he had slightly miscalculated the situation as he watched Gregory Lestrade slowly approaching his backyard on his bike. He gave himself half a minute to admire the sight from the kitchen window before he would went down to welcome his friend. Mycroft had seen pictures and CCTV footage of Greg riding his black Triumph but the reality of the Detective Inspector in a set of black biker leathers, with trousers so tight that nothing was left to the imagination, was a bit too much. Even for someone like Mycroft Holmes who was always able to retain his composure under all circumstances. Or especially for someone like Mycroft Holmes who had never been in a committed relationship before and saw himself falling slowly but oh so surely for this man.

He took a deep breath. A few seconds left to take it all in and not to be caught staring later. Gregory's boots were also black but partly red, matching the helmet he just removed, revealing a mess of silver-grey hair he ruffled hastily in hope of straightening it a bit but instead messing it up even more. The bike's polished chrome was blinking in the afternoon sun and even if Mycroft was far more interested in cars, he must admit this particular model, a 2006 Triumph Bonneville T100, was a beauty. Mostly because of the handsome man on top of it, but nevertheless. He knew that Greg valued his bike as much as Mycroft his car, possibly even more so, and that he spent most of his money on it as long as his daughter had anything she needed.

Time to go. He made a detour into the hall to grab his brolly because he just needed something to hold on to, something that deflects from the point that he might act like a nervous, love-struck idiot. Why hadn’t he accepted to be picked up by Mycroft’s driver, as he so often did when they met in town? Greg didn’t own a car and never used his precious bike to ride around London. He only took it for trips to the country and Mycroft should have thought about that option before planning this weekend. Functioning perfectly as always seemed to be difficult lately, even impossible when Gregory was involved. He opened the back door just as Greg was ruffling his hair again and stopped abruptly as he saw Mycroft standing in the doorway. The warm and happy grin on Greg’s face did funny things to Mycroft’s belly, he gripped his brolly even tighter and he couldn’t do anything else but smile in return.

“Welcome Gregory, I hope you had a pleasant trip?”

“Yeah, hi Mycroft. ‘Cos I had, the route and the weather are beautiful and I haven't taken my lady out for far too long.”

He dismounted the bike in such an appealing manner that Mycroft swallowed hard and was hoping that what he did just now wasn’t staring. Greg’s mischievous smile told him that staring probably was exactly what he was doing right now so he turned and walked across the yard.

“Follow me, you can park it in the garage.”

“ _Her_ , Mycroft, she’s a lady. If you call her _it_ she probably won’t like you.” Greg corrected him as he pushed his bike and followed Mycroft towards the garage.

“Why would I want to be liked by your bike, Gregory?”

“Because you would like to go for a ride with me sometime, don’t you?”

Mycroft felt a flush creeping up his neck at this thought.

“Oh no, driving on a motorbike was never something I regretted not trying!”

“But maybe never have ridden on a motorbike with me would be something you might regret.”

The flirtatious tone in Gregory’s voice alarmed Mycroft. Greg certainly was a flirty kind of person but always in a very subtle way, and he had never been that straightforward in front of him. Suddenly he seemed to be one step ahead and Mycroft didn’t know how to cope. He had planned this weekend in hindsight to push things a bit further, but that Greg would catch on that quickly was scaring him. And when was the last time he didn’t know how to cope or was scared about anything? He couldn't even remember such an incident and tried to pull himself together. When they finally reached the garage, Mycroft simply chose to not respond to Gregory's last comment and opened the left door of the gate.

“Oh, never took you for a Bond fan, really.” Greg snorted as he pushed his bike until it was parked beside the dark crimson Aston Martin.

“I’m most certainly not a Bond fan. It is a 1960’s DB4, this model has never been used in those ridiculous films.”

“Whatever, but does it mean you can actually drive on your own? Impressive!”

“Don’t be childish, Gregory.” He quirked his right eyebrow. “Similarly to you, I prefer driving in the countryside and not in the traffic jammed streets of London.”

Greg seemed to be surprised by that and smiled fondly, as if he couldn’t believe that there was yet another thing they had in common. To be honest, that was the point why Mycroft hadn't told him before. He had thought if they agreed in too many points, it would seem phony and sycophantic. But now he thought that probably he was the one being childish. They looked at each other for a moment, both unsure, but Gregory broke the awkward silence by opening his saddlebags and pulling out his stuff. He shoved one bag in Mycroft’s general direction.

“Here, you can put that in the kitchen, it’s for dinner. But first, could you show me where I can change please? I've never cooked in leather trousers and boots before!”

Mycroft stepped closer to take the bag and almost said _You should try_ before he cleared his mind.

“Of course, please come along.”

Why couldn’t he let go of that laboured part of himself for a change? Be more casual? That would have been a perfect way of flirting back. It wasn’t that he didn’t know what to say on such occasions because he was far too eloquent then necessary. He just couldn’t bring himself to actually say what he thought instead of his perfect composed words. Mycroft made a mental note to work on that, while he led Greg to the house.

\----

 _If you want, please have a look at:_  
[Mycroft's house](http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424127887324178904578341940014084764.html) (just the house, not the interior)  
[Greg's bike](http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6TmGu5jL2VM/S6ujvgO2ANI/AAAAAAAAAR8/5GZ35T3dypQ/s1600/Bonneville.2.jpg)  
[Mycroft's car](http://www.flickr.com/photos/geralds_1311/4296694401/in/photostream/)

NEW FANART: I requested a Biker Greg fanart for this story and the wonderful [Mita](http://mitarashi8.tumblr.com/) drew this gorgeous piece of art for me:

 


	2. Ratatouille

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of layers, dinners and knifes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now beta'd by the beautiful Tamsyn! Everyone who read it before should re-read it because of reasons! ;) And Erasmus_Jones, thank you for your encouragement, Brit-picking and your love for my story!

_~ Greg’s POV ~_

 

Now that wasn’t working as well as Greg had hoped it would. Had he overestimated his flirting skills? Because it seemed that Mycroft didn’t even notice his advances! At least he had caught him staring, good idea to take the bike then. He had to thank John for encouraging him in that aspect.

Greg followed Mycroft into the impressive house, overgrown with vine branches, and suddenly he wasn’t sure if he should proceed being a flirty idiot. What’s the point if Mycroft doesn’t play along? To be honest, he thought that he would possibly be outplayed by the man’s eloquence but he seemed to just ignore it. The question is why. Was he shy? Inexperienced? Now those were traits he would never have associated with Mycroft Holmes. Or could it be that Mycroft just wasn’t interested in him? Greg discussed it with John over and over because he really wouldn’t want to risk their friendship, but John was convinced. The fact that Mycroft never let anything slip from which you could get a hint about his sexuality didn’t help either. But Sherlock made it very clear, that Mycroft has never been interested in the opposite gender at all. Greg himself had made a secret about his bisexuality so Mycroft knew that wouldn't be a problem. Hadn't it been Mycroft who had suggested they should spend the whole weekend together? Damn it, he had decided days ago that he was finally done thinking about it and had made the choice to act upon his feelings. And here he was, making a fool of himself.

As Mycroft led him into the kitchen, through the hallway and up the stairs, Greg was sure he could get lost in this house. A few steps down a corridor, Mycroft opened the door to a room and held it open for Greg, gesturing him to enter first. Inside, an enormous bedroom was awaiting him. Mycroft stepped in behind him and pointed to the door in the corner. 

“Your en-suite bathroom. I’m certain this room is according to your desires but if there is anything you need, please let me know.”

Oh, now he couldn’t let this prompt slip away. “You sure you know all my tastes?”

“I hope not, that would be indecent, wouldn’t it? But feel free to induct me.”

Mycroft’s smile was almost seductive, but just almost. There was too much insecurity in it to really have a seductive effect. One step more to reassure him couldn’t hurt, Greg was sure.

“You could deduce them!”

“If you let me? Now please, make yourself at home, I’ll be waiting in the kitchen.”

With that he was gone before Greg could say anything else.  Well, at least that was something and Greg began to undress. He decided jeans and the new short-sleeved button-down shirt in dark blue wouldn’t look too casual beside Mycroft in his elegant brown three piece suit. His shirt was cream-coloured and with the dark-orange tie he looked impeccable, as always. Greg caught himself thinking, not for the first time, how long it would take to strip the man out of all those layers. 

Just as he was ready to go down to the kitchen, his phone rang. Oh great, if this was Dimmock, not able to handle the case he managed to hand over to him so he could enjoy his days off, he would kill him. But it was even worse. With a resigned sounding “Sherlock?” he answered the call. Without a greeting, as usual, Sherlock’s impatient voice was penetrating his ear.

“Come back immediately, Lestrade. Dimmock isn’t capable of working on my demand!”

“You better get along with him or just let him do his bloody job because I’m not letting you screw up my weekend!” Before Sherlock could say anything else, Greg heard John's voice in the background.

“Oh no you haven’t… What have I told you? Sherlock, give me the fucking phone! Sherlock? Oi, come on, that’s not fair! Just… give it to me or…” He heard a deep giggle, a thump and then the connection broke. With a fond smile on his lips Greg spend a moment to appreciate the mere existence of John Watson before he left his phone on the bedside table and headed for the kitchen.

When he arrived, Mycroft seemed a bit lost and was slowly unpacking the bag Greg had brought. It looked like he forced himself to not just sit around and wait, doing nothing but radiating power as usual. Instead he awkwardly placed down groceries on the kitchen counter like he never did the shopping on his own. He probably didn’t. He finally stopped as Greg came closer, regaining his posture as master of the situation in a second, which was a fascinating transformation to witness.

“Gregory, can I get you a drink?”

“Yeah, just water for me, thanks.” Greg took over and finished unpacking the bag. “So, tell me, did you deduce what I’ll be cooking tonight?”

“As you know, the subject of cooking isn’t really my area of expertise. But I very much appreciate the fact that it appears to be vegetarian.”

“Well, of course it is. I know that you don’t fancy eating much meat, so… Ratatouille it is.”

With a smile, obviously happy that Greg paid attention, Mycroft handed him a glass of water. Greg took it out of his hand so that their fingers brushed slightly and smiled back.

“The kitchen is yours then, chef. If you are in need of anything, like wine or music, please say so. I’ll be in my study, the door next to the sitting room.” With a slight bow of his head he would have been out of the kitchen in no time, but Greg stopped him before he got very far, having a ulterior motive in mind.

“Um, in fact I really am in need of something. Of you, I mean. Actually, I thought you might like to help me prepare the dinner?”

Greg hoped his tone had been casually enough, because he knew it would be a huge thing for Mycroft. Greg had already cooked several meals when Mycroft was present and he had never, not once, offered his help. Cooking was kind of Greg’s hobby. It was, besides riding the bike and spending time with his daughter, the only thing that fit into his life with such a time-consuming job. It was calming him down and because just cooking for himself was dull, he often went over to 221b to make dinner for all of them. Especially after they found out that Sherlock ate properly when Greg had been the one who had made it. John’s cooking skills weren’t very impressive, so he and Sherlock mostly lived on take-away and they both found the variety of solid, home-made food quite delicious. Mycroft always knew when such an occasion occurred and popped in sometimes, but he always seated himself on the armchair opposite from Sherlock and they had one of their mute conversations while Greg and John were pottering around in the kitchen.

So if he could succeed in getting Mycroft Holmes doing some kitchen work under his command, well, then he would probably succeed in getting him into things required in other rooms as well…

He hoped that he managed to put up what his ex-wife Iris always described as his irresistible puppy eye look and waited. He could see Mycroft weighting up his alternatives, but at least he saw him accepting his fate.

“I will be at your service, then.” Mycroft replied confidently, but Greg knew that he must be way outside his comfort zone at the moment and had obviously trouble holding up his demeanour of self-confidence. The man looked even more at a loss than before and Greg took pity on him. For all he knew, the man probably never used a cook’s knife in his life, at least not in the kitchen.

“Thank you, Mycroft.” Greg smiled encouragingly. “I’ll need you to cut all those vegetables really thin, I’ll show you how. But first you should get rid of your jacket and roll up your shirt sleeves, otherwise you’ll get them dirty.”

When Mycroft obediently slid off his jacket, and then hesitantly unbuttoned his cuffs, Greg felt extremely smug that he had succeeded in getting rid of the first layer so quickly.


	3. Firsts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of vegetables, touches and wine.

_~ Mycroft’s POV ~_

Too much. Too close. Sensory overload.

Mycroft felt like he was cutting through the thick tension hanging between them, rather than the courgette on the chopping board before him. He was sitting on the barstool at the kitchen counter and Gregory stood behind him, incredibly close, teaching him how to slice the vegetables for the ratatouille. Mycroft’s hands were covered by Gregory’s, following his talented movements. He was talking too, but Mycroft couldn’t concentrate. There was so much to register all at once: The warmth on his back, the pressure on his hands, the hot breath on his neck, the feeling of how the vibration of the man’s voice was running down his spine, raising goose bumps on its way. But suddenly, it was all gone and Mycroft tried hard to focus on the task of slicing by imitating Gregory’s movements with the knife.

“Yeah, just like that, Mycroft. Very good, keep going!”

The fact that he was praised like that for such an ordinary task was a tad odd for Mycroft, but when he felt an encouraging touch on his shoulder, the embarrassment was gone.

“You’ve got talent, actually.”

“My dear Gregory, don’t try to charm me, I’ve never done this in my life!”

“No, I mean it. You’re not afraid of a sharp blade, that helps. And there’s a first time for everything.”

“If you say so.”

“I do!”

With that, Greg went over to the kitchen unit in the middle of the room to prepare something chocolatey for dessert and left Mycroft to his cutting business and his thoughts.

Greg had touched him on immeasurable occasions over the time. He is, unlike Mycroft, never reserved about physical contact with other people and established some kind of a regular touching pattern with him. Greg always sat a bit too close to Mycroft on a sofa, just so knee-to-knee contact was possible. When they walked together he made their shoulders brush and when they met with a handshake, he drew him closer by gripping his upper arm with his other hand. Besides that, it was impossible to hand him things without a touch of fingers.

It had been a long time ago that Mycroft was so close to someone physically. Emotionally, well that was another first. Even at school he found himself being just too busy to indulge in the matters of the heart. Sexual excitement could be found outside committed relationships in very elegant ways if you haad the money, but over the years even that had bored him. It began to dawn on him that it might be the lack of intimacy. That, if you are with someone who actually cares about you, sex would be much more satisfying and exciting. Mycroft simply never searched and so he never found someone with whom he wanted to prove his theory.

Until he met Gregory Lestrade.

Mycroft was attracted to him at first sight but Greg had been married then, and happily so 7 years ago. It had just been that, attraction, at least it was what he made himself believe. He registered that the man was handsome, brave, good at his job, and was one of the few human beings on this planet who could handle his brother. Overall, an attractive man he thought about way too much.

And then Gregory had become a part of Sherlock’s life and Mycroft got to know him personally. He had started showing up on crime scenes from time to time where they mostly chatted about Sherlock. Sometimes he had _accidentally_ visited 221b when Greg was also there, which somehow evolved into them starting to meet up for lunch or even watching a football match together. And just like that, Gregory was part of his life as well and he simply couldn’t imagine it without him anymore.

When this thought crossed his mind, he knew it was time. Either this man or no one, it was as simple as that. What wasn’t simple at all for a man like Mycroft, was the way to show it. He worked hard on it and the events of this Friday afternoon so far had told him that they might be on something like a turning point here. If he only knew how to proceed successfully in this matter. But Gregory seemed to know what he was doing and finally Mycroft decided, silently cutting another courgette, that he will just follow where Greg would lead him. Another first. He had never done that before, following someone’s lead, but it will be fine. They will be fine.  _They_  will most definitely be more than just fine.

*

When Mycroft was relieved of his duty, he just sat there with a glass of the wine he brought from the basement and watched Gregory carelessly rummage around the kitchen so rarely used by himself. Gregory was totally at ease with the world and was happily draping all the slices into a mould, he didn’t seem to notice that he held Mycroft's entire attention. However, seeing him in such a carefree mood, doubt rose in Mycroft. Was he really the man Gregory needed? Reciprocally there was no doubt at all,  but he couldn’t help thinking that Greg might need a bit more than him. Someone who could offer him more time to spend with, would provide more security and freedom. It wasn’t easy for them, even as friends, to see each other very often with both jobs consuming more time than was healthy for any relationship. It was almost a wonder that they hadn't been interrupted by now. Suddenly Gregory looked up and beamed at him after putting the ratatouille in the oven. When he came over to clink their wine glasses, the thought was gone as fast as it had come to his mind.  _I would move my world to be with you_ Mycroft thought as he looked in Gregory’s eyes and brought the glass to his mouth, sipping carefully so he didn't need to take his eyes off of him.

 

\---

 _To understand the feelings that drifted through Mycroft’s mind in the end, please listen to this song![“I know him so well”](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8az1gFoZp4c) presented to you by John Barrowman and Daniel Boys. _ _I stole and bent a few lines from this perfect Mystrade song, but don’t be alarmed, in contrary to the song there will be a happy end here!_

_And if you want to know Greg’s Ratatouille recipe,[check it out](http://smittenkitchen.com/blog/2007/07/rat-a-too-ee-for-you-ee/)!_

_\---  
_

_I was advised by petitepatate that what I thought was a ratatouille, is actually called tian. A real[r](http://m.atelierdeschefs.fr/recette/13456)_[ _atatouille recipe_](http://m.atelierdeschefs.fr/recette/13456) _looks like this and because it's made very differently, I won't rewrite the chapter. My solution is, that Greg doesn't really read recipes, he just cooks and it always tastes heavenly. So he just calls every vegetable gratin ratatouille because it sounds better. Mycroft noticed of course, but was too distracted to correct him. ;)_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are following this story, I would be delighted to know what you think about it.  
> And for everyone who left kudos: Thank you so much!


	4. Black and White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of spoons, chocolate and sofas.

_~ Greg’s POV ~_

That had worked out much better than Greg had expected. There, facing him from the other side of the table, Mycroft Holmes smiled contently over his bowl of chocolate mousse after praising the dinner he helped to prepare. It was weird to see him like that, after he had nearly cut his finger before Greg had showed him how to hold the knife properly. Oh he had smelled so good which had been particularly distracting. If he wouldn't know him so well already, he hadn't noticed that Mycroft had been nervous then. However, he seemed much more relaxed now, after the wine and the dinner.

Greg wasn't sure if Mycroft was aware of the noises of pleasure was making while he enjoyed the dessert, but he was sure that he never, ever want anyone else to hear them besides himself and that he would gladly be the only person who would be able to cause them.

“Never saw someone savour my chocolate mousse like you do, I’m flattered.”

“My apologies, Gregory. I let myself go.”

Mycroft looked caught and Greg regretted that he said something, he should have just enjoyed the nice show.

“No, I didn't mean it like that. Watching you relish it is more satisfying than eating it myself, actually.”

At this, Mycroft smiled again, looking more confident again.

“Well, I have never eaten a chocolate mousse more delicious than this one, I got carried away.”

“Yeah, me too… Glad you like it, though!”

“I do and sincerely hope that it won’t be the last time I have the pleasure to taste such a delightful pudding.”

“If you let me use your gorgeous kitchen again, you might get the chance.”

“It would be my pleasure to do so, my dear Gregory. Even if I’m afraid that it won’t do me any good.”

“What do you mean?” Greg said, but knew all to well what Mycroft was intending to say. He really disliked it when Mycroft started talking about dieting, but never before had the courage to tell him why. _  
_

“Unfortunately, I gain weight rather quickly if I’m indulging in those sweet delights too often. That’s why I usually try to prevent the temptation."

“Rubbish! Look, where do you think this comes from?” Greg pointed at his belly, which wasn’t as flat as it once had been. “It’s there because you shouldn’t always overcome a temptation. It’s even less healthy than overdoing it, in my opinion. Besides, there are other tempting activities you can do afterwards, you know, they have quite the opposite effect.“

He saw Mycroft swallowing hard, clearly taken aback by what Greg had just said. Damn, he might have gone a bit too far there. He didn’t intend to scare him off with such a blunt declaration of his desires. Quickly, before Mycroft could find words to respond, he tried to rescue the situation.

“But we did plan to travel through time and space on your sofa tonight, didn’t we?” Greg winked and hoped his smile was reassuring. Enough flirty small talk now, they wanted to watch a few of the old Doctor Who episodes, it was the whole point of the weekend actually. But priorities could change.

 

*

When they were finally seated in the sitting room and the black and white light from the telly flooded the room, Greg had difficulties following the happenings on screen. Every now and then pictures from Mycroft licking at a chocolate covered spoon flashed up in his mind, growing into fantasies where dark chocolate covered delicate, pale skin. Again, he felt his mind drifting away and forced his eyes back to the telly where the very first Doctor was stuck in the stone age for reasons he couldn’t remember. Damn, he really wanted to see this! But Mycroft was so distractingly close beside him on the sofa, he could smell his aftershave, his shirt sleeves were still rolled up and his skin was glowing in the dim light. Not for the first time he fought down the urge to touch it, but after what he let slip previously, he couldn’t risk another push. He had to slow down, to increase the pace with yet another move would only make it worse. It was Mycroft’s turn now, but for some reason Greg sensed that he just didn’t know how to handle this kind of situation. Right, it had to be something very innocent then, no innuendos, just a simple invitation. Greg laid his right hand, palm up, in the space between them and waited in a manner which he hoped looked nonchalant. Minutes ran by which felt like ages. He nearly jumped as hesitant fingers brushed the outside of his hand but he remained very still, let Mycroft explore slowly, ever so slowly. When his own sturdy fingers were finally covered by slender ones, Greg interlaced their fingers and gave Mycroft’s hand a reassuring squeeze. Both men were still looking at the screen but neither paid any attention to the poor Doctor, who had been locked up in a cave full of skulls.

 

*

A few episodes down the road, they actually managed to pay a bit attention to the plot and laughed together about how different storytelling in a TV series was in the 60s. Greg sat even closer now, their joined hands rested casually on his thigh and occasionally his other hand found its way to stroke the exposed skin on Mycroft’s lower arm. The first time he did this, he was rewarded with a surprised smile which he took as an invitation to do it more often.

It really had evolved into a cuddly evening on the sofa, just as John had predicted. But you can only drag out a lovely day up to a point and Greg decided to call it a night when the current episode ended. Although Greg had encountered many similar situations in his life where things ended up in the bedroom, he had no ambitions to take it further tonight. He was sure Mycroft wanted to think about the proceedings and under no circumstances did he want to overwhelm him. When the credits finally rolled over the screen he leaned over, planted a lingering kiss on Mycroft’s cheek and breathed the words “Night, Mycroft” against his skin. Before he separated their hands, he brought Mycroft’s hand up to his mouth and brushed his lips against his knuckles. Then he stood slowly, smiling fondly, and left a blushing and dishevelled looking Mycroft on the sofa as he headed for his bedroom.

 

\---

 

_This is what they watched/ignored/couldn’t focus on:[An Unearthly Child](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/An_Unearthly_Child)_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If someone reads this who doesn't like/know Doctor Who, I hope it wasn't too much and the story works nevertheless.


	5. Morning Rituals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of suits, washed out football shirts and how they just fit perfectly together.

_~ Mycroft’s POV ~_

 

Mycroft sat very still in the dark sitting room, he had barely moved from the spot where Greg had left him about an hour ago. Processing the events of the evening seemed to take a while longer than he had thought. Mycroft Holmes was used to analysing complex diplomatic situations in minutes, predicting any possible reaction about a political statement and he never failed to advise the solution of an emerging crisis. But this was his own crisis, completely different to anything that had happened in his life. He had never thought it would come so far that someone actually showed interest in him. Admittedly, it was even worse: That he wanted someone to show interest in him! What Greg had done left no room for speculations, Mycroft knew as much. Even if he had no experience in that matter, he knew that it had to be his turn now. With that thought in mind, he went to bed but he wasn’t sure if he would find sleep at all. Still feeling Gregory’s lips on his cheek, he closed his eyes, where he saw Greg’s deep brown eyes looking at him while he kissed his hand. He saw their joined hands on top of Greg’s thigh and he felt the warmth soaking through the denim. His large bed had never felt so empty.

*

Mycroft woke late which was only the first irritating thing this morning. He never slept in and barely used an alarm clock, he always woke around 5:30  in the morning, no matter what. Now it was 6:50 already! It just showed how distressed he felt right now. He hadn't slept well, woke several times and had tried to plan how to behave around Gregory in the morning. He didn't came to a conclusion though, always drifting into unquiet sleep again. Right now, he hurried his morning routine, another thing he rarely did. Mycroft always got up early enough to have all the time in the bathroom he needed to look as impeccable as he usually does. Now he was lucky that he hadn't cut himself with his razor-blade. Back in his bedroom he noticed a scent that couldn’t be anything but the smell of nicely cooked breakfast. He dressed as fast as he could, it was half past eight by now and he really wouldn’t want to waste another minute of their day together. Mycroft took out his new suit, dark and light grey Prince of Wales check, Tte one he ordered at his favourite tailor with the note to make it “ _a bit tighter_ ” than usual, because that was what Greg had once said to him. _“You could wear your suits, you know, a bit tighter. I’m sure it would suit you!”_ Mr. Adams had suggested it himself a few times, but Mycroft hadrefused every time, driven by the thought of gaining weight again which was nagging at the back of his mind all the time. He felt sligthly constricted as he pulled on the light grey shirt which was also tighter than he was used to, but not in a bad way. He fastened the burgundy tie in a perfectly trained fashion and choose to wear matching braces. The waistcoat fitted snugly around his chest but it really looked good, he admitted to himself, Greg would notice. He threw over his jacket, fetched a pocket square in a yellow and red paisley pattern and almost ran on his way to the kitchen.

He stopped dead as he crossed the kitchen doorway. Gregory stood with his back to him, dressed in his leather trousers and a washed-out, blue shirt, cutting something in front of him. Too many facts crossed Mycroft’s mind all at once: _Leather trousers means he is leaving soon. I am clearly overdressed. He is making me breakfast. No one has ever made me breakfast who hasn’t been paid to do it. Why does he want to leave early?_

“Mornin’ Mycroft! Are you planning to come in or are you waiting for me to invite you to your own kitchen?”

“Good Morning, Gregory.” It was all he was able to say while he stared at Greg who looked over his shoulder with a triumphant grin, still cutting precisely without paying attention to it.

“Hmm, a new suit, tighter. It looks even sexier on you than I thought it would.” Greg focused on his cutting business again, for which Mycroft was very grateful.

“I always value your opinion Gregory, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know. Although I have to admit, it was a bit selfish to tell you. Just wanted to see you in a tight tailored suit, sorry. But please, sit down, breakfast is almost ready.” Greg gestured towards the table on the other side of the large room where everything was already set for a rich breakfast.

“Can I assist you with anything?”

“Thanks, but no! Almost done, just take a seat.”

Hesitantly Mycroft choose the chair from which he was able to observe how Greg was casually moving around the kitchen, it slowly calmed him down. Although the sight of Greg in those leather trousers wasn’t calming at all, but it did a good job to distract him from the thoughts he had all night.

Greg came over a few minutes later with a bowl of scrambled eggs and freshly cut chives on top, putting some of it on Mycroft’s plate while he poured the tea. It was odd, Mycroft thought, that it didn’t feel as awkward as he thought it would. He in his suit, Greg in his old Chelsea London shirt, smiling at each other over a breakfast that Greg had just prepared. _We just seem to fit._ However, there was something he had to ask.

“Are you planning to leave early today, Gregory?”

"What? Why?" The man looked honestly confused. "Oh, you thought… No, actually I just wanted to have a quick trip on bike after breakfast.”

“Yes, that sounds reasonable.” Mycroft hoped he could hide relief well enough.

“Not reasonable, it sounds like _fun_!”

“I’m sure it is for you.” Of course riding the bike with Gregory Lestrade would be fun. But the thought of sitting so close, to hold on to him, was simply too much.

“You've never even sat on a bike, am I right?” 

“No, never.” Mycroft was alarmed now, something in the way Greg had said that was very calculating.

“We should change that.”

“No, thank you, Gregory. I'm hardly dressed for that kind of activity.”

“Yeah, you're probably right. I suppose you haven’t got at least a pair of jeans handy, have you?” Mycroft rose his eyebrows and crooked his head slightly as an answer. „Oh come on, Mycroft! You’ll like it! Just a short trip and when I’m driving with something precious like you, you can be sure I’ll drive as careful as possible!”

There weren’t many situations in which Mycroft Holmes wouldn’t adamantly defend his standpoint, but at this moment, with a seductive smiling Gregory, his resistance was breaking apart.

“I do have a spare helmet, you know.” Greg grinned knowingly.

“As you said so poetically yesterday, my dear Gregory, there is a first time for everything.”

 

\---

 

_And, if you are up for a bit of suit porn, this is[Mycroft’s new suit](http://my-citrus-pocket.tumblr.com/post/47529026632)._

_Edit:[New Fanart](http://astudyinink.tumblr.com/post/58520673719/fashionstrade-02-greg-in-an-old-outworn-and) by the beautiful [Mita](http://mitarashi8.tumblr.com/)!  
_

  


_ _

 


	6. Cats and Dogs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of cats, dogs and of making the move that will change two lifes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Tamsyn and Erasmus_Jones, I really don't know what to do without you two!
> 
> If you want a soundtrack to this chapter, I listened to Aerosmith's ["Dream On"](https://vimeo.com/12438715) while I wrote it and it fits rather good actually.

_~ Mycroft's POV ~_

Greg was obviously tingling with anticipation after Mycroft agreed to a short trip on the bike after breakfast, although he was convinced that it had probably been the worst imaginable idea he had in a very long time. Mycroft wasn’t sure if he could restrain himself whilst being so close, wasn’t sure if he could ever let go after holding on to the man he desired so much. But maybe he doesn't have to let go and with that thought, the idea didn’t sound so bad anymore. He couldn’t backtrack now anyway, not with Gregory smiling at him so brightly over his toast. Although Mycroft had to seriously ask himself what he had gotten himself into! Greg really was doing a good job of pushing him slowly closer and closer to the point of no return. There was only so much Lestradeian charm you could resist and Mycroft knew it was only a matter of time, maybe hours, before he would lose control completely. He couldn’t stand the growing tension between them anymore, and sitting on the bike together would make it worse than ever. So he decided that if he didn’t want to spend another sleepless night alone in his bed, he should finally do something about it.

“Do you dislike my recipe or just the bacon?”

Greg’s question brought Mycroft back from the corner of his mind where he had retreated from reality. He stared down at his plate and realised that while he was lost in thoughts and the sight of Gregory, he had absently sorted out all the bacon and pushed it to the rim.

“I apologise profusely, Gregory. Usually I can control myself.”

“So it’s just the bacon? But I’ve seen you eating meat before, I didn’t know that you needed to control yourself to eat it. I’m sorry, just thought you weren’t particularly fond of a steak or something like that. You could’ve told me, you know.”

“I'm always in control of myself, I just seem to lose that ability in your presence.” Mycroft admitted, which earned him a cheeky  grin from Greg. “However, I am not a vegetarian, I can’t afford to be. It gives too much away, it’s a weakness I’m not willing to share in public. And obviously I wasn’t ready to share it with you, forgive me.”

“What is there to forgive, Mycroft? I know now, that’s enough. But didn’t you know that my little girl has always refused to eat meat? I’ve cooked without meat the past ten years, just for her. So I think I have enough practice to please you with my vegetarian recipes. Why was there bacon in your fridge anyway?”

“I requested my housekeeper supply everything required for a traditional breakfast. I don’t usually eat at home.”

“Yeah, I thought as much. Come on, let’s go.” Greg stood up and gestured towards the door that lead to the backyard. “You really don’t need to eat that if you don’t like it.” He pointed at Mycroft’s plate. “I’m going to make us pasta for lunch, you OK with that?”

Mycroft nodded, taken aback by the amount of understanding Gregory showed towards him. This was something he had to get used to, there had never been someone in his life, apart from his brother, who understood his strangeness.

Greg was already heading for the door, grabbing his jacket from a nearby chair and Mycroft started to follow him, but stopped as he saw at the mess in the kitchen. Greg stuck his head back into the kitchen as if he felt that Mycroft wasn’t behind him.

“Yes, if you cook at home, your kitchen gets messy. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it later. But I think your kitchen is happy to be used, at last.”

“Evidently, you know my kitchen better than I do. But you forgot your phone!” Mycroft said, reaching out to pick it up from the counter.

“No, leave it. I phoned Dimmock this morning and he’s doing fine. Sherlock is his usual, insulting self but they get along. They don’t need me right now and I have to take a day off now and then. So should you, by the way. It’s not healthy, the jobs are consuming so much already, you have to be able to switch off and enjoy life from time to time. But I imagine you never leave your phone.”

“You imagine correctly.” Mycroft approached Gregory who was still standing in the doorway and showed no intention of making space for him so he could pass by. He stopped in front of him. Greg waited a few seconds, then he smiled, grabbed Mycroft’s hand and pulled him out into the yard and towards the garage.

Greg let go of his hand to pull on his leather jacket and straddled his bike. Mycroft stood a bit helpless beside him but before he could say anything else, Gregory was holding out his spare helmet and patted his hand behind him on the seat.

“Now sit up and hold on to me tight, OK? Just follow my movements and enjoy the view!”

Greg beamed at him and Mycroft could only nod, he took the helmet wordlessly. Sitting down closely behind Greg, his arms wrapped around his leather-clad waist and he was pushed even closer as they drove. When they left the grounds through the front gate, Mycroft thought that it might not be a bad idea to have a pair of jeans handy and that at least one would soon be joining his wardrobe.

*

Mycroft wasn’t sure if he enjoyed the view as Greg suggested, but he wasted not one single second looking at the landscape. He was busy holding on, moving as instructed and admiring the view that presented itself right in front of him. Although his field of vision was limited because of the helmet, his eyes trailed down from Greg’s shoulder to his fingers and he watched as they moved on the handle bars. He looked down to where their thighs touched and he could feel the heat of the black leather, warmed by the sun, soaking trough the cotton of his trousers. According to the route Greg had taken so far, they were heading to the small park a few miles down the road which Gregory must have spotted yesterday on his way. Which meant Mycroft had still a few minutes left to take it all in and calming himself down before they stopped. Being pressed flush against Gregory’s backside had aroused him even before he climbed on the bike behind him, the thought alone had been enough and now he hoped his excitement about the situation wouldn’t be too obvious. He concentrated on what he felt with his hands for a while; they were clasped together over Greg’s waist, but his jacket was too thick to feel what was lying beneath it. His gaze fell back on Gregory’s thigh and he felt the urge to run his fingertips over the soft leather. Being in control of his actions was becoming increasingly difficult with every second now, what would happen when he lost it, he didn’t know. It had never happened before.

His eyes were fixed on the point where his knee fitted perfectly into the hollow of Greg’s as he suddenly felt a jolt, his helmeted head bumped into the back of Greg’s and the bike came to a stop.

“Oi!” Greg’s laugh was muffled by the helmet which he removed immediately. Turning around, he looked at Mycroft. “Are you OK?” He actually sounded concerned, although his eyes shone brightly with delight. Mycroft felt a flush rising to his cheeks and his first thought was not to remove the helmet, but he already looked ridiculous with his suit on a motorbike so he decided to not sound ridiculous too and took it off.

“I’m alright, Gregory. You just stopped rather abruptly.”

“No, not really.” Gregory took the helmet out of Mycroft’s hand, smiling fondly. “Happens when a pillion doesn’t pay attention to the road.” The flirtatious wink was enough for Mycroft to feel even more embarrassed than before. At least the problem with his arousal had solved itself now.

Greg dismounted the bike and so did Mycroft, straightening his trousers as Greg put the helmets into the saddlebags, removed his jacket and flung it casually over his shoulder as he made his way to the park. Mycroft followed, hoping his hair wasn’t too dishevelled after wearing the helmet. As he almost caught up with Greg, he heard a dog barking behind him. He turned and saw a brawny, brown dog running straight towards him, tail wagging. Mycroft stood rooted to the spot, hoping the animal would just run past him, but instead it stopped in front of him, still barking and looking up at him in anticipation. Instinctively, Mycroft took a step back, not familiar with a friendly approach like this. But before he could do anything else, Greg stepped around him and knelt down in front of the dog. He petted him heartily and mumbled along endearments as the dog jumped around happily. Mycroft looked at the pair on the ground in astonishment until suddenly furry paws were placed on Gregory's shoulders, he lost his balance and ended up sitting on the ground with an excited hackling dog in his lap.

“Brinkley, come here!” Someone yelled behind them and Brinkley immediately turned his head and left them, running towards his owner who waved at Greg in apology.

“You don’t like dogs?” Greg asked him, still sitting on the ground and now leaning back on his elbows comfortably, looking over to where Brinkley now played with a frisbee.

“I have never given it much thought, to be honest.”

“I always took you more for a cat-person anyway.”

“Have you now, Gregory?”

“Yes, I think you would be more challenged with a companion who has its very own mind and doesn’t give a fuck if you try to order it about. You would be bored with an obedient fellow like good Brinkley here. I know, it’s stereotyped thinking, but in my opinion you just have enough of that at work. All those minions, following you around without asking questions.” Greg was still watching in the dog’s direction and Mycroft realized the depth in what sounded like a random statement.

“Sounds like you owned a cat before.” Mycroft hoped to push the conversation back to the general topic of pets, away from the innermost feelings he hadn’t known existed.

“You don’t own a cat, Mycroft, the cat owns you. A cat chooses you to take care of it, it shouldn’t be the other way around. Sue once declared that she was bound to take care of a cat, she was very reasonable about it and so we went to the shelter. She walked into the room and just sat down on the ground and waited. A few cats came to sniff and left again, a few were hiding but only one came crawling into her lap and started to purr. Sue came out with the cat in her arms and said: _“He chose me, his name is Oscar, let’s go home.”_   And it was settled. Sometimes I miss Oscar when there is nobody around to irritate the shit out of me, Sherlock fills the gap sometimes.”

“Most people are irritated by _my_ presence.”

“You never irritate me, Mycroft!” All of a sudden Greg looked up at him with a gentleness in his eyes that made Mycroft’s heart skip a beat. It was as if Greg was looking right into his soul, knowing him better than he knows himself and even better than the most observant brother you can possibly imagine.

Without wasting another thought, Mycroft bent down on one knee to hover above Greg, he didn’t hesitate and smashed their lips together in an impatient kiss. As he wrapped his arms around Greg’s back he felt him place an arm around his shoulders and Mycroft pulled him off the ground and up into his arms. Greg’s other hand caressed his lower back under his jacket as he kissed him back passionately, moaning softly into his mouth. This wasn’t the kind of kiss you shared in public, they both knew that. So the dance of their lips ended in a very tight embrace and it must look like they were both holding on to each other for dear life. 

Mycroft buried his face into Greg’s shoulder, closing his eyes and just breathing him in, not able to think rationally. The only thing that crossed his mind was that he wanted to be alone with Gregory, as soon as possible. No dogs and no staring people around them.

“Take us home, Gregory.” He whispered in Greg’s ear, grabbing the fabric of his shirt in his fists as though it were possible to hold him even closer.

 

 


	7. Unsurprising Urgency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of leather, cotton and skin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost always have some kind of motivation song while I write a chapter. The lyrics don't have to comply perfectly with the story, but the tune of the song affecs my writing and that's why I think it's nice to listen to it whilst reading. At least in my head, it fits. This time, it was Led Zeppelin's ["Kashmir"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hAzdgU_kpGo)
> 
> A lot of ideas in this whole story are inspired by my wonderful friend Erasmus_Jones and I'm running out of words to thank her for everything she does...

_~ Greg’s POV ~_

 

When Greg drove them home he had a hard time concentrating on the road. What had just happened? Was it a dream? It wouldn’t be the first time. But Mycroft’s lips had felt so warm, he’d held him so tight and the way he’d said his name… It had sounded different somehow, underlined with desire and need. He felt Mycroft’s arms circling his waist, squeezing, he was so close but it was not enough. Greg had to touch, he needed proof that this was real and he moved his left hand from the handlebar to lay it over Mycroft’s, which were clasped together over his belly. He stroked them slowly and he felt Mycroft hugging him tighter in response.

They rode like that until they entered Mycroft’s garage and Greg wasn’t sure what would happen after he cut the engine with a turn of the key. Their kiss had sparked a fire inside him that he had tried to tame for so long, now it was burning bright and uncontrollably.

They both removed their helmets and before Greg could stand up, he felt Mycroft’s hands returning to their former place, only now they searched for the zip of his jacket. The hot breath against his ear made his mind spin and as elegant fingers made a fast progress of stripping him out of the thick leather, he gave up any resistance that was left, sighed and his let his head fell back on Mycroft’s shoulder. Skilled hands were roaming over his chest as Greg reached back with both hands to grip the underside of Mycroft’s thighs. Groaning, he tugged him forward to press their bodies together in one fluid movement which left no space between them.

Mycroft’s lips found his exposed neck and they nibbled and sucked while his hands trailed downwards, over the top of Greg’s thighs and back up on the inside. On their way up they didn’t hesitate and slipped under his shirt and soon brushed through his chest hair to playing with his nipples.

Greg was incredibly hard in his tight leather trousers by now, so hard that it started to hurt and he felt Mycroft’s erection pressing against his backside. He just couldn’t sit still anymore. His first thought had been to let Mycroft explore but he was past thinking now, his instincts took over.

With a moan full of frustration, he pushed himself forward, out of Mycroft’s embrace. 

“Get off the bike, against the car, I need to touch you, now!”

To his surprise, Mycroft did exactly that and Greg flung himself against him, producing a squeaking sound as the black leather of his trousers met the crimson steel of the Aston Martin and he pushed his legs apart so he could stand between them. Suddenly they were kissing again, a heated exchange of tongues, lips and hot breath.

When Mycroft pushed his shirt over his head, Greg realized that Mycroft was still covered in all those impossible layers and how much he craved for skin to skin contact. He pushed the jacket over his shoulders and as it fell onto the engine bonnet of the car, Greg’s fingers were already busy undoing the buttons of the waistcoat. Mycroft’s hands were stroking his back but his attention was soon dragged to the chest before him where he revealed red braces, shining colourful on the grey shirt as he removed the waistcoat.

Everything slowed for a few moments as Greg admired the beauty that stood before him. Greg trailed the braces from the seam of Mycroft’s trousers up to his shoulders where he tugged his thumbs under them to guide the elastic fabric slowly down his arms until he let them go.

“I've never stripped a man out of a waistcoat and braces before!” Greg admitted breathlessly, looking up into Mycroft’s hungry eyes.

“There is a first time for everything, my dear Gregory.”

This time it was Mycroft’s turn to smile seductively. Still holding Greg’s gaze, he brought a hand up to loosen his tie and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. Greg couldn’t help himself but as his eyes caught sight of the pale chest that was exposed only inches away, he started to pepper it with impatient kisses. Mycroft’s right hand appeared in his silvery hair, gripping as he leaned back and supported himself on his other arm, which he stretched out behind him on the engine bonnet. Greg’s hands fell down to hold on to Mycroft’s hips and he rolled his own against them. Both men moaned, knowing that this wouldn’t last as long as they both wished it would.

When the midday sun approached the door of the garage and tinted the room in a yellow light, Greg spent a second wondering in surprise why Mycroft’s chest hair was glowing coppery although his hair was a much darker shade of auburn. Until suddenly his attention was drawn away to his leather-clad behind which was squeezed by a shockingly strong hand that had just loosened the grip on his hair before it had dropped down. Greg took a deep breath to steady himself before he unbuttoned the rest of Mycroft's shirt. He didn’t pause and his shaking fingers found their way over a delicious belly button and down the ginger trail below to the waistband of his suit trousers. Unzipping them quickly, he wasn't able to wait any longer and and pushed them down to pool around his ankles, revealing silk boxer briefs in burgundy red which fitted snugly and didn’t leave any room for speculations of how far Mycroft was gone himself. Leaking precome was painting them black on the spot where Mycroft’s cock was begging to be freed. Greg brushed his fingertips against it and at the contact Mycroft pushed his crotch hard against his hand, groaning is desperation.

Quickly, Greg took a step back to rid himself of his own trousers as fast as possible, he already missed Mycroft’s heated skin after a few seconds. As he toed off boots and socks he could see that Mycroft got rid of all his remaining clothes and was touching himself now, impatient sounds escaping his mouth. Greg didn’t waste another second, stepping out of the black leather and his boxers in one move, he was looming over Mycroft again in no time. The hand was back in his hair, dragging him towards parted lips. Both of them were panting now, they breathed into each other’s mouths, foreheads touching as Greg reached down between them to take them both in hand. Mycroft was shaking below him, his eyes were closed as Greg stroked them rhythmically, lubricated by their own precome.  

It seemed that Mycroft couldn’t hold himself up anymore and he lay down on his back, on top of his earlier abandoned jacket, legs snaked behind Greg’s thighs. Suddenly his eyes flew open, locking with Greg's own, and Mycroft’s grip in his hair grew even tighter as he came all over Greg’s fist and his own stomach, crying out his new lover's name. The sound of his own name and the sight of this beautiful man coming apart beneath him was all it took to bring Greg over the edge just moments later as he stroked Mycroft through his orgasm. He was so overwhelmed, that he could only form one syllable and with a throaty and deep “My…” on his lips, he collapsed onto Mycroft’s limp body.


	8. Guilty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of expectations, the guilt of loving someone and pasta.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This time, I listened to ["Guilty"](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D8_WJ2Md7vY) from Al Bowlly (or better known as a song from the OST "Amélie" by Yann Tiersen). It fits especially to the second part of the chapter.  
> 

_~ Mycroft’s POV ~_

When Mycroft got his breath back and stroked his hands slowly up and down Greg’s back, he thought about what had happened and _how fast_ it had happened. His sense of time was a bit imprecise at the moment, but they had kissed in the park only about half an hour ago and right now, they lay naked and spent on the top of his car bonnet in the garage. Clearly, this had been too fast. If you want a serious relationship with someone, you shouldn’t jump him after the first kiss, and you definitely choose another location than a garage. But Greg hadn’t shown any sign of resistance. In retrospective, he took over control rather quickly and enthusiastically.

One of Mycroft’s hands wandered into Greg’s hair, caressing the silvery mess that rested on his chest. Of all of his fantasies, this was the one he had most longed for. To stoke, grip and kiss it whenever he wanted. He wondered if they were already at the point where he could do all that, or if it would be inappropriate. But Greg hummed approvingly and leant into the touch, so the stroking part seemed to be accepted and beyond that. he hadn’t seem to mind the gripping a few minutes ago either.

He heard Greg taking a deep breath before he pushed himself up to look him directly in the eyes. His gaze was soft and tender and a moment later he kissed him again. Not heated and impatient like the last ones they had shared, this was a kiss of a different kind. Slow, deep and full of emotion. When one hand came to tug at his shoulder, indicating to follow his movements, he pushed himself up until Greg was standing between his legs, the kiss still unbroken. Greg  worshipped Mycroft’s mouth slowly and surely. He sucked gently on his tongue,  his lips nibbling, his teeth nipping. Strong hands on his shoulders held him in place, one of his own hands still buried in Greg’s hair, the other now low on his hip. Mycroft had absolutely no control over the kiss and to his surprise, he was not fighting for it, he just went with it and enjoyed the sensation. He opened his eyes because he wanted to see and not just feel, and looked right into Greg’s dark brown ones.  With the thought that Greg had watched all along, his eyes shut again, a small sigh escaping him and he realised that he had never been kissed so lovingly in his life. After a few minutes which felt like hours, Greg pulled away, looked at him, pecked him on the lips once more and stepped back to fetch a few tissues from his saddlebags to clean them up. They started to gather all their clothes and laughed at each other as they tried to untangle what they had thrown away in a hurry and Mycroft felt light-hearted enough to talk about his earlier thoughts.

“I'm sorry if this was not what you might have expected.”

“What? What do you mean?” Greg looked irritated and stopped halfway through the process of fastening his trousers.

“This. Surely this is not the ideal setting for a first time, especially not if you are serious about a person.” Mycroft continued buttoning down his shirt, glad he had something to look at instead of facing his lover.

“Ideal? I don’t give a fuck about _ideal_ s, Mycroft! If this hasn't been the hottest first time I've ever had with anyone, you can burn every single one of my football shirts.”

Mycroft had no idea what to say and was a little bit relieved as his phone chimed in the inner pocket of his jacket. Unsure of what to do, he looked at Greg whilst grabbing for the crumpled jacket which still lay across the bonnet. Greg nodded shortly, but he did not smile. Mycroft had left his trusted PA Anthea with the instruction to only consult him if it was an extreme emergency, he had to take the call.

“Please excuse me, Gregory. I have no choice. I shall be back momentarily.” Mycroft stepped towards him, placed a kiss on top of his hair and made his way to the study as fast as he could, hoping it didn’t look like he was fleeing.

*

Of course sorting out a crisis in Mali via phone took its time. Mycroft could smell that Greg was already preparing the lunch he promised earlier when he finally put his phone back into his jacket. He hesitated before he went though the door. It looked ridiculous anyway, creased as it was and since he had given Anthea permission to act on her own initiative in this matter from now on, he wouldn't need his phone in the next hours anyway. He took off the jacket, hung it over the chair behind his desk and went into the kitchen.

Greg was tossing spaghetti in a pan with oil and the scent of fresh herbs hung in the room. When Mycroft walked in, Greg looked up and smirked at him.

“Is the world safe again?”

“Gregory, please. There is no excuse for leaving you like this. I understand if you are…” But Greg cut him off immediately.

“No! I understand that what you do is important. I remember you leaving quickly on several occasions in the past, I’ll just have to get used to it. You’ll probably have to walk out on me in other situations as well, not only on a shared lunch break or during a football match.” Greg lowered his gaze and put the pasta onto the plates. “Come on, stop looking so guilty.”

Mycroft followed him to the table, noticing on the way that Greg was barefoot which he found incredibly sexy and in combination with the leather trousers almost unbearable. It also made him feel even more guilty than before. Greg chose to put the plates on both sides of a corner, which meant they would be sitting very close. As they sat down, their knees brushed and Mycroft found his smile again. They ate in comfortable silence for a while, stealing a few glances now and then, but when Mycroft saw that Greg wanted to say something and was struggling to find the right words, he waited patiently.

“I… um, I was wondering how long has it been for you since you've been with someone? I mean like ' _being serious with someone'_ as you put it earlier.”

“I have never been in a relationship with anyone, if that is what you mean, Gregory.”

“Yeah, um, that’s what I meant, but really? Never? Sorry…”

“No, never and don’t be sorry. I know that it is not exactly normal, but it was my choice. I've never met anyone who was worth the effort.”

“Woah! Does that mean I’m worth it, or am I not?”

“My dear Gregory, you are so much more than just worth it, I hope you know that.” Mycroft reached out and lay his hand on Greg’s knee under the table to stress the importance of what he had just admitted. Greg placed his hand over Mycroft’s and squeezed it tightly in response.

“But you did seem to know what you were doing, back in the garage I mean.”

“I do indeed know what I am doing.” Mycroft dropped his voice seductively low. “There are reputable ways to satisfy ones physical needs outside of committed relationships.”

“Which cost you a fortune, I imagine.”

Mycroft just quirked an eyebrow because this was certainly not a topic he wished to discuss right now.

“How long has it been for you, then?” He asked in hope Greg would catch on and he could just sit there and watch him talk, which turned out to be one of his favourite amusements lately. Greg always talked in a very dramatic way and now that one hand was busy under the table stoking Mycroft’s, he only gestured around with the other one, which was holding the fork.  

“As if you don’t know. Is there anything you don’t know about me already? I don’t think so. But seeing as you asked, here you go. I haven’t been in a relationship since the divorce, so it’s been over two years for me. There had been a few one night stands, not worth to mention. And if you think about it, we have gone out a lot for over a year now, haven’t we? I haven’t even had the time to date someone, not that I wanted to…” With one of his cheeky grins, he looked at Mycroft while he absently stirred around on his nearly empty plate. “I have known for quite some time now, it’s you I want.”

They looked at each other for a moment, exchanging looks which said more than words would be able to. Their fingers remained interlaced under the table while they finished their meal. Without letting go of his hand, Greg took the two plates and dragged Mycroft behind him towards the kitchen.

“And now, I’m going to show you how to tidy up a used kitchen!”


	9. Undisclosed Desires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of bubbles, ink and braces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My recommendation this time is to listen to ["Undisclosed Desires"](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bWTuKd2lTo4) from Muse, it fits perfectly to this chapter.  
> Without my dear friend Erasmus_Jones, this chapter wouldn't exist! Thanks for inspiring me, Sweetie.

_~ Mycroft’s POV ~_

Mycroft stood in front of the sink, pouring washing-up liquid into the warm water just as Greg had instructed. He was still pouring several moments later, concentrating was proving to be nigh on impossible. With Greg bending down in front of him to fill the dishwasher, barefoot and in his leather trousers, it was understandable.

“Oi! That’s enough! You’ll have a bubble bath in your kitchen if you don’t stop.” Greg laughed at him.

A small and much too weak sounding “Oh!” was escaping Mycroft as he looked at the sink, which was overflowing with soap studs by now.

“No harm done.” Greg chuckled and went over. “Move over a bit, you won’t want to get your suit wet after all it’s been through today already.”

Mycroft rolled up his shirt sleeves but decided to leave on the waistcoat, he felt too exposed without it in this unfamiliar situation. A dish towel was thrown at him and they started to clean the pile of pots and pans that had been stacked since the night before, talking sweet nothings as they worked. But Mycroft was distracted by the way Greg’s hands moved in the water and because of the bubbles which flew around him. They were all over his bare arms already, a few on his shoulder and there was a puddle on top of his hair. He couldn’t avert his eyes; that his mind was replaying scenes from what had happened in the garage and was mixing it with long treasured fantasies, wasn’t helping at all.

As Greg cleaned the last remaining pan, Mycroft lost his patience completely. He threw the towel away and sidled up behind him, pressing Greg against the counter. His lips found a nice spot on his throat to nibble and he slid his hands slowly down wet arms until he could wind his fingers around Greg’s in the still warm water.

Greg leant back into him instantly, let the pan slip from his hands and cradled his neck with a small sigh, giving Mycroft better access.

“Mycroft Holmes, seducing me for the second time already?” Greg mumbled as he closed his eyes, losing himself in the sensation.

“I'm not used to lose control like this. What you do to me, Gregory…I don’t even know… ” Mycroft could barely whisper the last words, he's never behaved so impudent before. He brushed his lips against Greg’s ear, his voice now heavy with need. “I promise to contain myself in the future if you only let me have this.”

“Never hold back, My. Never, not with me.”

Mycroft wondered how on earth he deserved this and why he found the nickname so endearing coming from his lover's mouth, before pressing his body forcefully into Greg’s. He trailed his soaking hands upwards, over Greg’s shoulders and down his sides, leaving dark trails on the blue cotton. Mycroft slipped his fingers under the shirt and shoved it over Greg’s back, up to his shoulders where he could push it over his now raised arms, which were deliciously covered in water droplets.

When Mycroft brought his hands back to Greg’s shoulders, he saw it for the first time. A dark blue lion, encircled by red roses and the yellow lettering _Chelsea Football Club,_ moved between his shoulder blades as Greg tried to remove the shirt, the muscles of his back flexing. Mycroft let out a shuddering breath and touched the inked skin with his fingertips, very carefully as if he could accidentally wipe it off. He was surprised that there really was something he didn’t know about Gregory and it was hard to tell what aroused him more: That he held this secret from him for so long or the tattoo itself.

“Didn’t see that coming now, did you?” Greg sounded smug as he let his chin fall to his chest and enjoyed the way Mycroft explored the mark tentatively.

“No.” Mycroft breathed his answer over Gregory's skin as he looked more closely. The colours were faded, he must have done it a long time ago. Greg leant heavily against the counter and Mycroft bent forward so he could examine the tattoo even better. His hands firmly holding Greg’s hips, he pressed his nose to the spot and breathed hot air over the inked skin. Greg’s breath hitched as Mycroft started to lick and traced the circle slowly with his tongue. With a grunt of pure desire, Mycroft bit down, rolled his hips against the trembling body before him and left open mouthed kisses on every one of the five flowers.

“Oh God, My… you…” Greg moaned but speech was failing him. Mycroft stretched, pressed his clothed chest against his bare back and placed a kiss on Greg’s temple.

Suddenly an idea crossed his mind. Mycroft had never been playful with his former lovers, he had always taken what he wanted, but he had never been able to do, or to ask for the things he really needed. Something told him that it would be completely different with Gregory. So he dipped his hands back into the soapy water in front of them and began to roam his slippery fingers over Greg’s body, rubbing soap studs into the salt and pepper hair on his chest and circling his thumbs over his nipples. Greg’s head fell back on his shoulder, chest glistening and Mycroft felt his hands coming around to cup his arse in a tight grip.

“Mycroft, please! Let’s take this into the bedroom. I don’t… I _really_ don’t want to rush it again, but if you go on like this… God, I’ll have you bent over the counter before you can blink twice.”

“If you promise to do exactly that another time, then yes, Gregory, take me to bed.”

With a deep, throaty growl, Greg turned in his arms and caught his lips in a passionate kiss, not releasing him until they were both breathless. Moments later, Mycroft was dragged upstairs by his hand and found himself in his own bedroom. The thought that Greg might be intimidated by his huge four poster bed eliminated itself as Greg pushed him onto it, gentle but powerful. He was looming over him, their mouths almost touching, but not quite.

“Tell me what you need, My.”

Greg breathed heavily and stared right into his eyes. Mycroft’s mind was spinning now, there was so much he needed and he didn’t know where to begin. So much he had never dared ask any of the nameless men he had taken to bed in the past. He’d never been able to show any weakness in front of them and had never lost the upper hand. Mycroft Holmes had always been in control, but wanted nothing more than to let go right now.

“Just you Gregory, I just need you. I’m yours.”

Greg’s eyes went wide, with a grip on his hips he pushed him further onto the bed and straddled his lap, hands roaming over the fabric of his waistcoat. Nimble fingers played with the buttons as he undid them slowly, looking up at him from under his long, dark lashes. Greg dragged him up into a sitting position again as he gently pulled at his tie until he could seal their mouths together, kissing him deliciously. Tie and waistcoat were removed and his shirt was unbuttoned as warm lips left his own, only to leave a wet trail down his chest. Greg’s hands rose up from his now bare waist and found their way to his shoulders. Mycroft felt the fingers under his shirt playing with the braces above, pushing themselves slowly underneath before running down his upper arms and stopping at his elbows, where the damp sleeves were rolled up. He could barely move with Greg in his lap and his arms trapped at his sides, he tried to free himself but there was little he could do. Greg held on to the shirt behind his back and started ravishing his chest now. Nibbling on his right nipple, he flicked his tongue over it and finally bit down softly, the overload of bitter-sweet pleasure made Mycroft forget about everything else and he let out a deep sigh.

After his left nipple was provided with the same treatment, Mycroft felt a pressure on his chest which pushed him on his back. His bondage now secured behind his back by his own weight, he could only watch as Greg slid down his body to flip open the braces’ holdings and removed his trousers. Large hands slid up his calves and thighs as he made his way back in a catlike manner and nuzzled his nose into Mycroft’s silk covered groin, grunting into the fabric. Mycroft couldn’t hold back anymore and moaned shamelessly as Greg’s cheek stroked up and down his erection and as he raised his head to look down, dark eyes were gleaming predatorily at him. His head fell back onto the cushions and needy sounds were pouring out of him as Greg teased him through his pants. Mycroft raised his hips to get more friction but Greg moved with him so he was thrusting up into the air. He wanted nothing more than to push his fingers into the grey hair to press Greg down against him. Finally, just before he thought he couldn’t take it anymore, fingers hooked under the waistband and his pants were dragged downwards. The heat of Greg’s body was gone too and as he brought himself to open his eyes, he saw his lover had removed his remaining clothes and was crawling back onto the bed, over his body until he found himself kissed into oblivion. The urge to touch him back, to grip and to hold on to Greg was driving him mad and he couldn’t stand his restraints any longer.

“Release me,” Mycroft demanded, his voice no longer smooth but rough.

“Not yet.” Greg smiled deviously, pulled away and knelt back at the end of the bed as he watched how Mycroft struggled to free himself from the tight, wet shirt, but he stilled immediately as he felt his legs spread wide by strong hands, his whole body shivered as fingertips traced the long scar on the back of his right thigh. Fingers were replaced by soft lips which kissed their way up to his groin and ended their journey on top of his leaking cock. Greg’s head hovered there and Mycroft could feel his breath as his hands came up to free his arms eventually. As Greg licked at the head of his cock and slowly closed his lips around it, Mycroft’s hands flew into his hair instantly, pushing him down so he was forced to take him in deep. His hips were thrusting uncontrollably but soon Greg placed his strong hands on his hipbones to hold him in place and licked and sucked his way up and down his length. The slow rhythm made Mycroft feel dizzy and he was soon lost in a haze of lust. There were only the two of them and the wet heat that was engulfing him. No longer able to hold up his hands, they fell down on the bed where they gripped the duvet helplessly.

“Gregory, I… you should… oh Gregory…” Mycroft felt his orgasm approaching and knew it wouldn’t take much more, but Greg only swirled his tongue around his sensitive head before he sucked him in deep, even deeper than before. It didn’t look like he wanted to draw back and Mycroft couldn’t fight it any longer. With a strangled shout he came inside Greg’s mouth who swallowed around him and continued to suck with less pressure as Mycroft rode out the last waves of his climax.

It was as if he blacked out for a few seconds and as he came to, he found Greg’s head on the top of his thigh, breathing heavily he was obviously stroking himself.

Mycroft's first attempt to speak resulted in an exhausted moan but as he collected himself to a point where he could tug on Greg’s shoulders, he managed to form a few words.

“Come up here, I won’t let you finish this alone.”

“You don’t have to.” Greg mumbled arduously as he crawled on top of him and Mycroft reached behind his thighs to pull him even higher until he was straddling his chest.

“Hold on to the headboard,” was all he said before he licked his lips, burrowed his fingers into the firm flesh of Greg’s arse to push his cock into his mouth.

“Fuck!” Greg gasped and took hold on the heavy wood as his body began to shake. He was already close but Mycroft took his time to relish his taste and enjoy the flexing of muscles under his hands. Greg lost control over his thrusting hips after a while and fucked his mouth with abandon. Mycroft left his eyes open, he wanted to see everything and admired the view of his nose poking into the soft swell of Greg’s belly with every thrust, before his eyes went up to search for his face. He looked down at him with hooded eyes but as their gaze met, they went wide and closed a moment later.

“I’m so fucking close My, if you…” A deep groan interrupted Greg’s warning, his head hung heavy between his shoulders. But Mycroft just dug his fingers deeper into his flesh, so hard he was sure it would leave bruises, and that was enough to take Greg completely apart. Only moments later he felt the first salty wave invading his mouth and he swallowed greedily, humming around Greg’s throbbing cock. Above him, Greg shivered and repeated his name over and over and Mycroft only released him as he felt that Greg was softening inside his mouth. He brought his hands to his waist and guided him down to lie on top of him and for the second time that day, he petted Greg’s hair as his head rested on his chest.

Mycroft had never thought it possible to feel truly happy and be totally exhausted at the same time. With that thought, his eyes closed against his will but his hand remained tangled up in the silver strands of Greg’s hair.

 

\---

_Have a look at[Greg's tattoo](http://www.chelseafc.com/content/dam/cfc/menu-folders/Club/History/Badges/Club-Badges-Gallery/cfc-badge-1953-1986.jpg), it's Chelsea's crest from 1953–1986._


	10. How to Complement One Another

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of brocade, silk and stone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was co-written by the wonderful Erasmus_Jones. I was about to rewrite it but she rescued it heroically.

_~ Greg's POV ~_

When Greg woke, something felt wrong, something he couldn’t quite fathom. He opened his eyes and was greeted by a huge, dark wooden pillar in front of his face. He reeled backwards taking a moment to register that he had slept in an enormous four-poster bed, Victorian probably, with green-golden brocade curtains at the top end. He was also was naked - and alone. What if he’d gone too far? Maybe he he scared Mycroft off? It had looked like Mycroft really enjoyed himself and Greg would have loved to wake up beside him, stealing sleepy kisses and soft touches. Then he heard the shower from the en-suite bathroom and it dawned to him, that his dear Mr. Holmes had maybe never shared a shower with anyone and had fled the bed for privacy. Greg lay back down, folding his arms behind his head and stared at the silk canopy over the bed.

It was hard not to think about how Mycroft must look like right now; his chest flushed, water droplets on every one of his beautiful freckles, damp hair. Maybe he was thinking about what they had done earlier. Oh good Lord, what they had done earlier. Greg felt like a horny teenager as the images crossed his mind and laughed at that thought because bloody hell he was nearly fifty. Nevertheless, it took him a great amount of willpower not to jump on Mycroft in the shower and he waited, closing his eyes. His hand travelled down his chest and under the duvet, but it rested on his stomach and didn’t go further. When he thought about the passion Mycroft had shown today, Greg was sure he would need all his stamina for later. Besides, he would really like to show the man how to properly share a shower as soon as possible.

As he opened his eyes again, Mycroft leaned against one of the posts at the foot of the bed. He was wrapped in a silk dressing gown with a black and silver paisley pattern and was smiling down at him longingly.

“I hope you are enjoying yourself, my dear Gregory.”

Smiling  back, Greg realised that his hand had travelled down to his groin and was now palming his half hard cock under the duvet.

“I do, but it would be so much more enjoyable if you’d join me.”

Still smiling, Mycroft crawled elegantly onto the bed and lay down beside him, his head propped up on one elbow.

“Tell me, how I can make you more comfortable.” The corner of his mouth rose seductively and Greg let his fingers run through Mycroft’s damp hair.

“Kiss me.”

Slowly Mycroft leant in, closing his eyes and meeting Greg’s lips tenderly. Greg always loved to kiss open eyed, but with Mycroft it was almost too much. To see the devotion written on his face, hope, gratitude and the plea for so much more. He looked so vulnerable whilst being kissed, Greg’s heart was aching.

Surely Mycroft didn’t want to talk about it, but he should share his thoughts with him nevertheless. While they kissed lovingly, Mycroft had thrown one leg over Greg’s and his hand rested on his chest. His eyes opened and he looked puzzled as Greg ended the kiss to lean back a few inches. Smiling reassuringly, Greg stroked a thumb over his cheekbone.

“Listen, Mycroft. I don’t want to give a long speech, but as you are new to this affectionate lovemaking business, I want to tell you that if you need anything, please ask for it. If you want something, just do it. I’ll let you know if I’m not up for it and so should you if I am asking for anything specific. But to be honest, I don’t think that I will ever be able to say no to you.”

Mycroft looked away. “I keep that in mind, thank you Gregory.”

“Hey! Please look at me, My.” Greg turned his face back by pulling gently athis chin. “I meant what I said earlier, don’t hold back. I want all of you, everything. Not just the pieces you show others.”

The tension in Mycroft’s features was washed away and replaced by a wide grin. “Are we possessive already, Detective Inspector?”

“Yes, we are.” Greg grabbed a handful of dressing gown to pull him on top of him until Mycroft sat across his body, on his hands and knees. Letting his hands wander down his back, Greg noticed that his lover wasn’t wearing underwear as he stroked over his bum and slipped over the silk to have a firm grip on the back of his thighs.

“You’re mine and I’m yours. It’s as easy as that.”

The look on Mycroft’s face was wondrous but Greg just raised his head to kiss him before he could say anything. His fingers dug in a bit tighter and suddenly, a tremor went through Mycroft’s body. He hissed and broke the kiss, his eyes wide.

“What is it, My?” Greg asked alarmed.

“Nothing, just the scar. It is always sensitive, but after a long shower it gets more… severe.”

“I’m so sorry.” Greg released him but Mycroft placed his hands back.

“That is not what I meant. It is not hurting, not if it's you who is touching it.”

“Does that mean I’ve found your most delicate spot?” He began kneading the firm flesh under his hands softly, carefully tracing the long scar with his fingertips.

“You might have, but feel free to explore,” Mycroft breathed out, shivering.

“Can I see it again? I was a bit um, distracted earlier to give it the attention it deserves.”

Mycroft moaned, closed his eyes and laid himself flat on his stomach beside Greg. Taking the invitation, Greg spread his endless long legs so he could settle between them and shoved the dressing gown up over Mycroft's bum to have a nice view. He just looked at first, the scar was about 7 inches long and only one word to describe it popped up in his mind: It was elegant. A straight line from under the curve of his arse almost down to the hollow of his knee. It must have been stitched perfectly to look so beautiful.

“How long is it since you got that?”

“It happened 15 years ago.”

“Was it a knife?”

“Yes, a very sharp blade.”

“And yet, you’re not afraid of them.” Greg whispered admiringly as he lowered his head to place a kiss just below his cheek on top of the scar.

“No, I am not.” Mycroft groaned and shivered as Greg started to lick his way down with only the tip of his tongue and upwards again, he flattened it to lap across the delicious but damaged skin.

“Hmm, you like that.” Mycroft just grunted in response, thrusting into the mattress. “Nah, don’t get over excited, I want to take my time with this.”

Greg just pulled his hips up so that Mycroft was on his knees, head resting on his crossed arms. Greg’s full attention returned to the scar; he licked circles over it, nibbled with his lips and he bit down very carefully. Surprisingly, he quickly found the right amount of pressure to make Mycroft beg.

“Hnng… Gregory… please!”

“Please what?” He breathed over the wet skin.

“Everything, everywhere. Just more!”

“What about that?”

Greg brought his hands up to cover his cheeks, spreading them slowly to give Mycroft enough time to retreat. He didn’t, instead he just heard a sobbed “Oh Gregory…” coming from the cushions. That was enough for him to kiss his way upwards, just briefly flicking his tongue over his lover's entrance. Mycroft moaned loudly and without shame, he clearly enjoyed being worshipped like that. He Pushed his arse back, indicating that he wanted more and that was what he got. But soon, after minutes of delicious torture, the noises he made were much too desperate and Greg took pity. He licked his palm and reached around to give his cock a few firm strokes which earned him a relieved sigh from Mycroft, who began thrusting up into his fist enthusiastically. Greg’s lips returned to the scar, kissing it once more before he sat back on his heels and pulled Mycroft back to lean against him. His body was limp and his head fell against his chest instantly. Greg raised his fingers up to Mycroft’s mouth and as soon as they touched his lips, they were sucked in greedily. He saw how Mycroft’s own hand made its way to touch himself but he gripped his wrist before it could reach it.

“Hey, I’ll have to tie your hands to your impressive bed if you try that again.” Greg said as his nicely wet hand finally returned to find Mycroft’s aching cock.

“Is that a threat or… oh… a promise?”

“Whatever you want it to be.”

One deep moan and a few twisting strokes later, Mycroft’s back arched and he came. Sobbing noises escaping his mouth, his body shivering against Greg who had to hold him up to keep him close. They didn’t move until Mycroft’s breathing found a regular rhythm again and Greg began fidgeting nervously. In this position, he couldn’t touch himself because his erection was trapped between their bodies. So he began to rock them slowly, rubbing his cock against his lover’s back.

Mycroft chuckled and freed himself from the embrace to press a chaste kiss on Greg’s lips.

“Come on Gregory, I’ll show you the shower.” Mycroft climbed off the bed and as he went, his dressing gown slipped from his shoulders to lie on the step to the bathroom invitingly.

Greg was out of the bed and inside the bathroom within seconds, but the plan to just shove Mycroft against the tiles and rut against him was abandoned as soon as he looked around. The whole bathroom was tiled with large grey stone tiles, the shower at the back end and a huge tub opposite were taking most of the room and were parted by a huge glass front with a door in the middle. Mycroft had already adjusted the three shower heads so the hot spray was everywhere and leant casually on the back wall of the shower, which was covered with small, rougher stones. He looked stunningly beautiful and Greg knew he must look very foolish, standing there gaping and with a raging hard-on.

“Isn’t this what you wanted, Gregory?” Mycroft’s voice was low, seductive and he was smiling smugly.

“Y-Yes…” Greg stammered and didn’t even wanted to start thinking about how Mycroft deduced that.

“What are you waiting for, then?”

Greg stepped into the shower, closing the glass door behind him and was pinned against it faster than his mind could process. Mycroft’s wet body pressed against him, he had caught his hands by their wrists and his lips played with his earlobe until he suddenly bit down.

“This is me not holding back, offering you everything.”

A shudder ran through Greg’s body as the vibration of Mycroft’s voice ran through it and water droplets were cooling on his skin.

His hands were guided over his head and pressed against the glass, held in place by one hand whilst the other came around his waist, pulling him forcefully against Mycroft’s heated body. His attempts to wiggle free were for nothing but the hard and rough kiss that followed managed to wash every resistance out of Greg. He leant back against the glass door, waiting what Mycroft would do next with anticipation. His lover reacted very quickly, obviously feeling the change in Greg’s posture and with a few effective moves, he was twisted around through the warm water and was suddenly facing the rough stone wall. Mycroft was right behind him but their bodies weren’t touching. He slid his fingers down Greg’s arms and brought them up to push his hands against the wall at shoulder height.

Greg shut his eyes as the wandering hands came to a rest on his hips and Mycroft ordered him to spread his legs wider. The smooth voice was right behind his ear and as he obediently did was he was told, he was happy about the sound of the running water because he was quite sure he just whimpered.

“What do you thought I was doing in the shower as you were touching yourself in the bedroom, Gregory?”

“I um... I dunno.”

“Yes you do. Tell me!” Mycroft was sucking on his neck now which only distracted Greg further.

“I… I thought you’d run from me. I thought I’d gone too far… and… that you regretted letting me come so close.”

“True enough, I left you alone, but not because I regret even one moment of our time.” The voice was back at his ear, lips grazing on the spot behind it. Suddenly Mycroft’s whole body was flush against his back.

“You looked so beautiful sleeping, I didn’t want to wake you. But I am no saint, Gregory. I could not lie beside you any longer without laying my hands upon your skin and taking what I want more than anything. I needed the distraction of a rather cold shower. You are going to need your rest Gregory, I’m going to make sure of it.”

Kisses were trailed down his neck, over his tattoo and up to his shoulders, and when teeth bit down into his flesh, Greg’s loud shout echoed back on the tiles.  

Breathing over his other ear, Mycroft spoke again, his voice sounding even deeper in the small room.

“But it did not work. Do you know why? Because all I could picture was fucking you against this wall. Until you scream for me.“

At this point Greg was relatively sure, if one man was able to talk him into orgasm, it would be Mycroft Holmes. But right now, his cock was aching to be touched so he better kept that in mind for another time.

“Oh fuck… yes!”

“Unfortunately, we are not as young as we once were, that fantasy will have to wait a little longer. But do keep it in mind as it will indeed come true.”

The thought alone was almost more than Greg could take, but as the steaming air began to smell of lavender and slippery fingers were gliding into the cleft of his arse, he was shown exactly how much more he was able to take.

“But to finger you until you are begging me to finish you would be just as good, don’t you think?”

Mycroft’s finger teased his entrance until it entered him abruptly and turned Greg into a moaning mess. Soon, a second one followed and found the right spot expertly. His head hung down between his outstretched arms which were trembling slightly and as Mycroft’s other hand snaked around to finally pull on his cock, he almost came instantly. But the desperately wanted friction was gone as fast as it had come. 

“Oh no, you don’t get to finish until I allow it. You can and will take more than that.” A third finger followed and Mycroft sped up the rhythm, thrusting up into him more forcefully than before.

“Please, let me. Just…”

Greg was cut off by his own moan, surprised he was pushed so far to beg for release and Mycroft just chuckled behind him. It was a heady feeling to be so completely at mercy under Mycroft’s hands, a feeling he would be happy to indulge in more often in the future. Just as much as he wanted to be the one to take this man apart with his own. But as Mycroft began to leave open mouthed kisses at the nape of his neck and talented fingers were cradling his tight balls, every coherent thought was washed away by waves of pure pleasure.

“Now, Gregory. Come for me now.”

There was the firm grip on his cock again and as Greg thrust into the fist, he did just that. The scream of Mycroft’s name reverberated from the tiled walls deliciously indecent.

Just before his knees gave out, Mycroft came up between his arms and held him up around his waist, guided him slowly down to sit in his lap on the shower floor. Greg rested his head on his shoulder, let out a satisfied sigh and enjoyed how the water was running down his back.

 

\---

_If you want to know how I imagine the setting, th_ _is is the[four-poster bed](http://www.sunhotel-canterbury.co.uk/gallery/rooms/room1.jpg). _

__Some of you might want to have a look at Mycroft's[dressing gown](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-h_hJd2NmY44/T7-ZRpsNR5I/AAAAAAAABKo/9YgBB-z4018/s1600/Verona+Black+Silk+Gown+and+Olivier+Black+Silk+Pyjamas.jpg)._ _

__And of course[the shower](http://hgtv.sndimg.com/HGTV/2011/12/12/Original_Jackie-Dishner-Luxury-Showers-Susan-Fredman-Stone-Enclosure_3x4_lg.jpg).  
_ _


	11. Significant Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of boredom, family and boyfriends.

~ Mycroft’s POV ~

 

“That was quite impressive, you know.” Greg mumbled as he stepped out of the bathroom in search of his shirt.

“Well, the marmoreal tub was custom made and the Brazilian granite in the shower was a special delivery from…”

“I didn’t mean your bathroom, My.” He stopped what he was doing to turn his gaze on Mycroft and look at him through his lashes.

“Oh, that.”

To talk about _that_ made Mycroft feel uncomfortable for some reason, he picked up his dressing gown from the floor and wrapped it around him harshly. He had just wanted to show Gregory what he was capable of. That he wouldn’t always be a whimpering mess beneath him, overwhelmed by what he could do to him and lost in sensation.

“I spent a large amount of my youth similarly engaged, until I became unenamoured and disinterested in the rigmarole.”

Greg crossed the room to stand in front of him, reaching out to brush his fingers over his lips.

“Those things you said, you could make me come undone with that filthy, gorgeous mouth of yours.” Mycroft felt a blush rising up to his cheeks and Greg grinned, kissing him chastely. “I can only hope you never get bored with me.”

How could he even think that? It was impossible. Mycroft felt at a complete loss of words but he tried.

“Never, my dear Gregory. That will never be the case. There is no such thing as boredom when you are with me. Everything is different with you.” Putting his hands on his lover's shoulders, he continued as Greg beamed up at him.

“I have never felt so devoted to someone, and wanted by someone. The chances of you becoming bored with me are much higher. Or be bored in my absence more likely. But please be sure of one thing, Gregory. I'm going to move my world to be with you as often as possible.” This was something he had wanted to say for a long time, but realised that it was probably a bit too much at this early stage of their relationship. Gregory looked touched, but also taken aback by this sudden emotional outburst, so Mycroft tried to loose the situation up.

“Actually, I already started! I left my phone in the study before lunch.” Looking proud to have done so, he smiled down at Greg who dissolved into giggles and patted his cheek delightfully.

“Good boy. Now I’m going to fetch my jeans from the other bedroom, I don’t think I’m safe in these.” Grabbed his leather trousers from the floor, Greg winked at Mycroft before he left the room.

Mycroft chuckled to himself, as if the man would be any less irresistible in his jeans, he thought and opened his wardrobe. Presuming that they would spend the evening more or less on the sofa, he reached for his grey tweed suit, a white shirt and the blue knitted tie. One of his favourite outfits for comfortable evenings at home. He dressed but left the jacket, he decided there shouldn’t be too many layers between them tonight. As he entered the hallway, he heard that Greg was apparently on the phone with someone and without thinking, he stopped to listen.

“Hey, no details! But seriously, thanks mate.”

“Oi, punch him for me, would you?”

“Haha, OK then, see you John.”

Only seconds later, Greg walked right into Mycroft, who stood frozen to the spot in the doorway, looking horrified.

“Am I correct in assuming that you just phoned John to tell him about us, Gregory?”

“Well, more or less. Why, do you have a problem with that?”

“Why on earth would you do that?” Mycroft cursed himself, he hadn’t intended to sound so hysterical.

“Hey calm down, please?” Greg pulled him close, rubbing circles on his lower back as he spoke. “I phoned because I wanted to know if Sherlock had maybe strangled Dimmock in my absence, but surprisingly it’s all running smoothly. John knows where I am and of course he asked me if we finally got our acts together. And they knew all along, My. We were pretty obvious, you know?”

“We were?”

“Oh yes.”

Mycroft huffed in annoyance, he thought he had had his eyes under control in public, apparently not. But on the other hand, he’s getting used to losing his control around this man.

“It’s all right, we don’t have to hide from them, we’re family. In fact, I don’t want to hide from anybody. If that’s OK with you?”

Because Mycroft needed a moment to get over the word _family_ and that Greg just included him, he didn’t respond quickly enough for that kind of question and Greg retracted before he was able to answer.

“Sorry, you’re not ready, I understand. I’ll try to keep my hands off you in public.”

Suddenly painfully aware what that would mean, Mycroft’s mind caught up with the reality and he hugged him close, burying his face into his neck.

“Don’t you dare!”

“Not sure it would’ve worked anyway,” Greg laughed, tightening his arms around him. “Now come on, let’s move this into the living room so I can show you how nice a cuddly evening with your boyfriend on the sofa can be when you’re allowed to kiss and grope. Nice suit, by the way.”

Greg pushed him towards the stairs and halfway down, just as Mycroft recovered from the sound of the term _boyfriend_ , something dawned to him.

He stopped and turned to Greg, who was almost of the same height in this position. “Wait. You always insist that I go first. Why is that?”

When Greg failed to hold back a giggle, Mycroft rolled his eyes. Now it was clear that this never had been purely a gentleman’s behaviour, it more or less served the purpose that his dear Gregory had a nice view of his arse.

“Took you long enough.” Gregory was still giggling but gasped as Mycroft curled his arms around his waist, lifted him up only to let him down one step below him. Smiling fondly, he kissed the top of Greg’s head.

“Lead the way, Detective Inspector.”

While Mycroft followed his huffing boyfriend, he decided that the term didn’t sound so bad after all and he admitted to himself that yes, probably their attraction towards each other had indeed been obvious to everybody around them.

 

\---

_Mycroft's knitted blue tie was inspired by[Mark Gatiss' red one](http://my-citrus-pocket.tumblr.com/post/51074477908/weholls-mark-gatiss-and-his-knitted-tie), which I adore._


	12. Starshine and Sunlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About night, day, and the time in between.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You don't have to listen to this gooey song, but for me it fits, somehow...  
> ["Good Morning Starshine"](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1FXKyQUE-BI)

 

_~ Mycroft’s POV ~_

 

Mycroft woke because his warm and cosy pillow started moving under him. Opening his eyes to the flickering telly light, he sighed to make his displeasure known about that fidgeting business. He decided that he could stay in this position forever. His head was resting on Greg’s belly, on top of his right hand which has found a resting place under the other man’s shirt, enjoying the soft skin and occasionally playing with the hair around his navel. The other hand was shoved under his thigh, hugging it closely against his chest. Greg’s hand was stroking through his hair, twisting the strands that always began to curl if not tamed properly. Mycroft could honestly admit he never felt more content and at ease with the world than right now. But Greg shifted again, now sliding up against the cushions to sit straighter, which caused Mycroft to lay his head into his lap instead, sighing more theatrically this time.

“Hey, drama queen, the stars are shining and we should go upstairs instead of pretending to watch telly.”

“And how would that improve the situation?” Mycroft turned his head to look up at him, completely ignoring the immoderate nick name.

“Firstly, my back won’t kill me tomorrow so I can have you in every position you desire. Secondly, being curled up together under the duvet with fewer clothes is quite nice too, you know.”

“I’m beginning to see what you mean. Intriguing thoughts, but I’m afraid I’m much too sleepy to move.”

“Up you go.” Greg pushed gently to help him up. “Or I’ll pick you up and carry you to bed.”

“Oh you wouldn’t dare!” Mycroft sat up, staring at Greg with gleaming eyes.

“’Course I would, I’ll have my revenge someday, Mr. Holmes. Not tonight, though. Just move your pretty bum upstairs already and no more complaining.” As Gregory stood up, he switched off the television, took Mycroft by his arm to pull him up into a kiss and led him to the bedroom.

Mycroft fell face down onto the mattress as soon as they entered the room, having not slept much the night before and being shagged thoroughly through the day, he was tired beyond belief now. One eye still open and not caring about undressing himself, he watched as Greg stripped down to his boxers and then even discarded them. Mycroft raised his head, eyes wide as he saw that this gorgeous man was just about to crawl into his bed naked.

“Sorry, I always sleep like this.”

“I am not complaining.”

“But you don’t usually sleep in your suits, do you?”

“No, usually I am able to change into my pyjamas.”

“Turn around, I’ll help you,”

Greg chuckled amused when Mycroft languidly did as he was told and watched with sleepy eyes how Greg’s fingers flew over all the buttons as he undressed him gently but efficiently. Minutes later he was naked and Greg manoeuvred him under the duvet after slipping under it himself. Soon, a warm body was pressed against Mycroft's back, an arm slung around his waist and one leg thrown over his own. He corrected himself about his earlier thoughts; there might be too many heavenly positions as to stay in just one forever. With Greg breathing steadily against his neck, he felt himself drifting over into sleep. He would have loved to enjoy this longer, but he couldn’t fight the overwhelming tiredness any longer and fell asleep with a content smile on his lips.

*

The first thing Mycroft saw as he opened his eyes the next morning was probably the most endearing sight he had ever woken up to: A yawning Gregory who stretched his naked body right beside him, his hair standing up in all directions. It was simply breathtaking, so he just watched until Greg turned his head, beaming as he saw he was also awake.

“There you are,” Greg said affectionately, his voice rough from sleep. “It’s nice to wake up beside you.” Facing Mycroft, he moved in close to press a kiss to his lips. “Mornin’, My.”

Returning his lovely smile, Mycroft stroked along his silvery-grey temples, the softness of his hair already familiar under his fingers. The stubble on his chin was new, he rubbed his thumb across it to map the new feeling to then kiss the spot and feel the sensation on his lips.

“Good morning, my dear Gregory.”

“Did I ever tell you how much I love it when you call me that?”

“You don’t have to, I see it every time. But I use it for purely selfish reasons, I’m afraid. I just want to see your bright eyes smiling at me in delight, that is all.”

“Oh yeah, you selfish bastard.” The grin on his Gregory's face was audible in his voice. “That’s for making me happy.”

Greg hooked one leg over his and pulled on his shoulder until Mycroft moved to straddle him while he was kissed tenderly. As he lowered his body to settle on top of him, they were both moaning lazily into the soft kiss. Soon, they moved together in a slow rhythm, enjoying the ease and the comfort of each other’s bodies, bathed in the golden morning sun. There was no rush, neither had to go anywhere and so they just kissed and shared gentle touches for what seemed like hours. 

Soon, the heat that was pooling in Mycroft’s belly since he opened his eyes was starting to overwhelm him again. To see the indulgence on Greg’s face as their erections rubbed together between their bodies and to hear his little sighs of pleasure when Mycroft rolled his hips as slowly as possible was both, too much and too little. He wasn’t sure if what he had in mind right now could still be labelled as lazy-morning sex, but now that he had a foretaste of what it was like and he finally knew what the fuss was about, he hoped they would manage to indulge in this particular activity more often. 

Right now he was sure what he wanted, what he hadn’t been able to ask for yesterday. Besides, the way Greg was kneading his arse indicated that the need was mutual. Mycroft reached out to the bedside table, retrieved the lube from the top drawer and placed it on Greg’s chest.

“Prepare me.” Mycroft's voice was alarmingly shaky and for good measure he added an almost shy “Please?”.

Greg stopped in his movements, picked up the bottle and looked him deep in the eyes.

“You sure? Because we don’t have to.” His expression was serious but he looked a little bit caught, like he hadn’t expected Mycroft to offer himself like that but had wished he would.

“Yes, I'm sure. And no, we don’t have to, but we both want to.”

Rising up to his knees and propped up on his elbows, he lowered his head to kiss Gregory with all the passion that swelled in his chest and soon Greg began to relax under him. Mycroft felt one hand stoking his side, the other came around to cup his balls and crawled upwards, leaving a slick path on its way. Humming in pleasure, Mycroft shifted a bit higher to give Greg the best access in this position and buried his nose into his hair. Greg still seemed to be in no hurry, he added more lube and let his fingers run up and down his cleft patiently, rubbing his index finger teasingly around his entrance. As he finally felt the pressure increasing, he gasped as Greg’s finger breached him, sliding in and out carefully. To feel his tongue there yesterday had been wonderfully sensual, but with the anticipation of what was yet to come, this was even more intimate somehow. He lost track of the time, something that only happened in Greg’s presence, he trembled every time Greg brushed his prostate and he began to push back when he added a second finger. His lover worked him open like they had all the time in the world, mumbling encouragements and stroking his back lovingly. Mycroft thought that no one had ever paid him so much attention and it was time to give something back. He shuffled lower and Greg’s fingers slipped out.

“I am ready.”

Mycroft's voice was breathy and after a soft kiss he sat back on his heels. Greg automatically angled his legs, one of his hands holding onto his hip, the other slicking up his cock before resting on the top of Mycroft’s thigh.

Their eyes locked as Mycroft grasped behind to have a firm grip on Greg’s cock, he lined himself up into a position from which he could sink down slowly, oh so slowly. Indescribable noises were coming out of Greg’s mouth, but Mycroft stayed silent until a deep sigh escaped him as he finally engulfed the whole length deep inside of him. Remaining still, he just looked down at Greg who was looking back, totally focused on him and caught in the heat of the moment. Then he rose tentatively, adjusting to the sensations, enjoying as the sting evolved into pure pleasure. It had been a long time, but it had never felt better. Not leaving his lover’s eyes, Mycroft began to move rhythmically, one hand sprawled across Greg’s belly and the other hooked behind Greg’s thigh where he dug in his fingers every time he pushed back down. To restrain himself from touching his cock, he had to close his eyes for a moment, moaning deeply as he sank down all the way.

“Fucking hell, My! You’re far too pretty like this.” He saw Greg’s chest heaving erratically as he tried to speak clearly, he wouldn’t last long as soon as he sped up his movements, but he was too far gone himself to drag this out any longer.

“Touch me.” Mycroft whispered and he couldn’t prevent his eyes falling shut as Greg’s lubed hand moved from his thigh to wrap around his cock, stokes matching his movements. Increasing the pace unintentionally, he let his head fall back as he felt that Greg was pushing back eagerly now.

“My… I won’t last, I… God you’re so fucking beautiful!” Greg grunted roughly and Mycroft dragged his eyes open to watch how Greg’s hips rose to meet his arse, trying desperately to last just a little bit longer.

“Oh Gregory...”

That was all he managed to say before he pushed down in just the right angle and every coordinated movement was forgotten as he fucked himself on Greg’s cock until he came, crying out his name and falling forward. Now braced on both hands on Greg’s chest, he found the energy to nudge his nose slightly, indicating him to go on. Greg nodded, his hand left his softening cock to grab him firmly by his hips and started to thrust up into him. Mycroft lowered his head, lips brushing his ear as he started to hum approvingly.

“I want to feel you come inside me, Gregory. I need to feel it. Come on Gregory, claim me.”

Moaning loudly beneath him, Greg didn’t need more encouragement, only a few hard thrusts later and Mycroft felt his cock throbbing deep inside him. He raised his head to watch, Greg’s eyes were wide open, his features fierce before they relaxed. Mycroft heard one last moan of his name and then Greg’s hips were bucking up uncontrollably as hot spurts filled him. He pressed their lips together before his head rolled onto Greg’s shoulder. His body limp, he lay on top of him, not able to move anymore. Mycroft had almost drifted into sleep, but he stirred as a kiss was pressed to his cheek.

“Hey gorgeous, you just have to move one more time, can you do that? I’ll clean us up and we can crawl back under the duvet.”

“Yes...” Mycroft sighed weakly. As he rose, Greg’s cock slipped out, the sore feeling causing Mycroft to draw in a sharp breath.

“I’m sorry, so sorry, I was too rough in the end. Are you all right?” Greg kissed him fondly, his thumb stroking his chin.

“I’m fine and you were not too rough, don’t worry. Just hurry up and come here.”

He couldn’t hide a smile and was rewarded with a peck on his nose. He rolled onto his front when Greg came back from the bathroom with a damp flannel. He did what had to be done with gentle efficiency, climbed back into bed to spoon up at his side and Mycroft pushed his back closer against his chest. Greg’s arm came around to stroke his chest and he raised a hand to entangle their fingers. He barely noticed the kiss Greg pressed against his neck before sleep took over.


	13. Too Good to be True

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of linen, champagne and strawberries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And because we all wouldn't be able take our eyes off Mycroft and you’ll see why when you read on, the motivation song for this chapter is Frankie Valli’s [“Can’t take my eyes off you”](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PzpWKAGvGdA).

_~ Greg’s POV ~_

Greg stood in the kitchen, wrapped in Mycroft’s silk dressing gown with his elbows braced on the counter. His face buried in his palms he jumped when the toaster popped up the slices he’d been waiting for. It was difficult to get the images of Mycroft riding him with so much devotion out of his mind. He would describe his sexual history as fulfilling so far, with having fun with both genders since his teens and trying everything he wanted to try. But this was something else entirely.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, blinked a few times and placed the toast onto the plates on the tray, accompanied by a pot of jam and two steaming cups of tea. He made his way back to the bedroom in happy anticipation of the freckled beauty which was still sleeping in the gigantic bed in all his glory. Greg placed the tray on the bedside table and took a few minutes to admire Mycroft’s features, so peaceful and content. He wondered how often he would have the chance to see these particular expressions on his face in the future. How many lazy Sunday lie-ins would they be allowed to have? Not many, he imagined sadly.

Sitting down on the bed he reached out to stroke Mycroft’s cheek, grinning about the endearing amount of ginger stubble accompanied by the ruffled mess of auburn hair. As his lover’s eyes slowly flickered open and searched for his, he bent down to greet him with a warm smile and a soft kiss on his nose.

“Mornin’ again, My.” He let the borrowed dressing gown fall from his shoulders and was embraced as soon as he snuggled back under the duvet.

“You made me breakfast again.” Mycroft declared, sounding mildly embarrassed.

“Yeah, since I don’t know how many of these weekends we’ll get in the future, I’ll spoil you all I want. I’m going to enjoy every minute of this one and you’d best do too.”  

“I assure you, my dear Gregory, I will treasure it just as much. And you should happily anticipate my plans for reciprocating your charming efforts.” Mycroft leaned forward to kiss Greg gently, before sitting up to fluff up the pillows and arranging them against the headboard so they could lean back into them.

“Oh, um, I definitely am.” Greg, slightly baffled, reached for the tray to place it on their outstretched legs.  “But just so you know, I really relish those moments, cooking for you and making you comfortable. You said nobody has done that for you before and I’m honoured to be the one who is allowed to do it now. You don’t need to thank me for it, seeing that you appreciate it is enough.”

“That is not going to happen. It would mean that I take you for granted, Gregory. Please adjust to being thanked every time in various ways and do so graciously.” Mycroft said slyly, taking a sip from his tea and dropping jam on his toast. 

Greg reached out for his own cup, taking much too big a sip and swallowing hard, not wanting to think about what exactly Mycroft meant with _various ways_ right now.

*

Sitting in the sun on the step leading from the kitchen into the back yard Greg leant back against the wall, closing his eyes while he waited for Mycroft. Of course, it had to take ages to look as impeccable as he always did so Greg made a mental note to be patient when he waited for Mycroft. Greg only needed 10 minutes after the shower; a quick shave, a swift hair ruffle and pulling on a shirt and jeans just doesn’t take that long. The new mauve coloured polo shirt he currently wore felt really nice, he should take his daughter shopping more often, she really knows what suits him. Besides, his wardrobe wasn’t in a good state and definitely not suitable for fancy dates with Mycroft Holmes.

After a while he got the creepy feeling that someone was watching him and opened his eyes. Blinking against the sun he took out his sunglasses and saw Mycroft standing on the other side of the yard in the garage door, leaning casually on his brolly with his feet crossed at his ankles. He wore a cream linen suit with a white shirt, there was no tie and he had left the first two buttons open, not to forget the spectator shoes in dark brown and ivory leather. As if that alone wasn’t dishy enough, he also wore a Panama hat which band matched his pocket square in deep crimson red as well as the braces, which peeked out because the jacket was slightly shoved back by Mycroft’s arm since his hand rested debonairly in his trouser pocket. Greg was aware that he was outright staring, but he couldn’t take his eyes from the arresting sight of the beautiful man before him. Mycroft smirked at him from across the sunny yard, obviously he reacted just as his lover expected, smug bastard. Greg cleared his throat and stood, walking over to Mycroft and as he reached him, he caught his neck to pull him down into a heated kiss.

“That was for being so incredibly attractive, just so you know. I’ll wait forever if that’s what it takes to see you look like this and I won’t even complain.”

“I do like to take my time whilst dressing but I had to,” he paused dramatically, looking down at the floor and then up at Greg from under his lashes “arrange something.”

“Is that so, Mr. Holmes?”

Mycroft just smiled mysteriously and walked into the garage towards his car. Opening the passenger door he looked at Greg, bowing slightly.

“Please take a seat, Gregory.”

Accepting the invitation, Greg stepped into the car but not without a lingering look at his lover before he sat down. Mycroft closed the door softly and walked around to sit beside him. He looked absolutely stunning, like he purchased the outfit just for driving this car. Knowing him very well by now, that was probably the case, Greg thought.

“So, where are you taking me?”

“Let me surprise you,” was all he said before he turned the key and manoeuvred the car out into the sunshine.

*

As they drove along, Greg tried to look out of the front window from time to time and not have his eyes glued to the dapper figure of his boyfriend beside him. His appearance so classy behind the wheel of this pretty car which he drove, of course, in the most elegant way possible. Greg was a tiny bit jealous of how those long fingers gently stoked the leather-covered wheel and was so distracted imagining them somewhere else, that he didn’t even noticed that they arrived at their destination. He was suddenly snapped out of his daydream by the click of Mycroft’s pocket watch.

“Perfect! Please come along, Gregory.”

With a much too elusive peck on the mouth, Mycroft was out of the car and opening the passenger door before Greg could get himself sorted. He took the proffered hand to step out and wasn’t entirely sure if he just felt extremely treasured or if there was a little embarrassment mixed in his emotions. Mycroft definitely had something planned and while he was excited for what was to come, he was also a little nervous. Greg rather liked to be the one surprising his partners, he wasn’t used it being the other way around. But Mycroft’s proud smile let him forget about his anxious thoughts and he decided that he’d be damned if he didn’t relish every single second he was given to spend with this gorgeous man.

Still holding onto his hand and swinging his brolly in the other, Mycroft lead the way towards a riverside. As they walked closer, Greg could make out that in the shadow of a huge weeping willow an opulent picnic had been prepared and waited in the shade for them to consume.

“A picnic?” He blurted out, making Mycroft look nervously at him.

“I hope you do not perceive a picnic to be too over indulgent. Would you be so kind as to accompany me on the blanket?”

“Aw, you romantic idiot...” Greg nudged him in the side with his elbow. “Of course I will. Wow, that looks fancy. Must have cost you a fortune!” He saw various bowls of salad, bread and cheese, a truly outrageous amount of fairy cakes, fruit plates and to top it all: a bottle of champagne.  “You shouldn’t spend so much money on me, Mycroft.”

“Be assured there is no one else I would rather spend it on, Gregory. Now please, sit and make yourself comfortable.”

The first thing Greg did was kicking off his shoes and socks which improved his comfort immensely.

“You should try it, too. Very comfy.”

“No, thank you. I prefer my skin be covered from the sun, including my feet.”

“We’re sitting in the shade, My.”

“It is enough to… Well, would you like a glass of champagne, Gregory?”

“Oh no, you’re not getting away with that so easily. It’s enough for what? Give you even more of those sexy freckles? You may have noticed that I discovered your ginger nature yesterday and it’s bloody obvious that I find it more than just a little bit hot. It’s a shame you’re dyeing your hair, by the way.”

“How flattering, thank you Gregory. I found myself believing it was the least appealing aspect of my outward appearance.”

“Oh My, it really isn’t. To be honest, I can’t decide which is the most appealing aspect of you. A few more freckles might help me to choose one.”

“Captivating concept. It seems I'm not able to withstand your charm in perpetuity.”

Giggling, Greg dropped to his knees to unlace Mycroft’s shoes. “Come on, sit down!” As soon as Mycroft was seated on the blanket, he took each foot into his lap, freeing him of shoe and sock and concluded his task by dropping a kiss on his smooth ankles.

With a blush on his cheeks, Mycroft reached for the champagne to expertly open the bottle. As he leant over to hand him a glass, Greg did his best to linger as their fingers touched. They clicked their glasses and it took Greg exactly two seconds after his first sip to kiss the sparkling taste from his lover's lips. Grinning with satisfaction, he pulled back to pick one of the fairy cakes and bit into it with great delight. Yes, this whole arrangement was posh beyond belief but he couldn’t care less at the moment.

“Oh that’s good, you should taste it!” Crawling over to sit in Mycroft’s lap and pushing the cake softly against his lips, Greg watched closely as they parted and an agile tongue helped his fingers to push it inside.

“Hmm, indeed.” Mycroft murmured, pulling him closer and crossing his legs behind his back. “Why don’t you try a strawberry?”  Reaching out to one of the fruit plates, he held one in front of his mouth and Greg couldn’t resist sucking on one of Mycroft’s fingers as he nibbled on the fruit. “It brings out the taste of the champagne.” Mycroft said seductively, before taking a sip and sealing their mouths in a prickling kiss.

“My, you're just too good to be true.” Greg breathed against his mouth before catching a smudge of strawberry with his lower lip, which had been hiding in the corner of Mycroft’s mouth.

*

Time passed quickly, the hours filled with laughter and kisses. They had devoured the food in shared bites until very little remained of the picnic at all. Previously soft touches became lingering and increased in heat as the day progressed, they decided that in order to continue they should move to a less public space. When Greg dragged Mycroft back to the car eventually, he tried to will away the thoughts that he has to leave in a few hours. He wanted to stay as long as possible in this bubble of intimate togetherness which they created around themselves. To have to leave him later pained him more than he would ever admit. After spending only one night in the presence of Mycroft, he could barely stand the thought of spending just one more alone. Greg had to pull himself together now, there were still a few more hours to enjoy and he always was one to look on the bright side of life.

 

 

\---

_You can see how pretty Mycroft would look in a linen suit and a Panama hat when you look at Mark Gatiss' performance in "Poirot: Appointment in Death"[here](http://my-citrus-pocket.tumblr.com/post/52222412083/parabellumeve-agatha-christies-poirot-11-4) and [here](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ls3a31rUxG1qmb8weo1_500.jpg), also have a look at this beautiful piece of [artwork](http://astudyinink.tumblr.com/post/49947024431/suitcroft-05-1-2-3-4-the-suits-were). The outfit was also inspired by [this post](http://ibelieveinmycroft.tumblr.com/post/19631179490/mycroft-a-study-in-suits-complete) of ibelieveinmycroft's stunning series "Mycroft: A Study In Suits"._

_And these are[Mycroft's shoes](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IBF2omft1Sk/T-u6h5cVySI/AAAAAAAAB-U/70nPnn_M9kU/s400/GGSpectator.jpg)._

 

 


	14. Promised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh the joy being a surface in Mycroft Holmes' house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This song](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GoarnA7qsVc) goes perfectly with the beginning of this chapter.

__

_~ Mycroft’s POV ~_

The car had barely stopped when Greg’s hands were already all over him and Mycroft had trouble withdrawing the key due to his dearest placing hot kisses against his throat and beginning to undress him hurriedly. He leant into his side and Mycroft tried to turn towards him, hitting his knee on the gear stick in the process but he didn’t say anything. From the information he had sourced, sex in a car was never comfortable. But after a few frantic kisses at an awkward angle he wanted to get closer desperately, so he shifted, bumping into the steering wheel with his other knee and groaned in annoyance.

"Gregory I… As much as I wish to ravish you right here as we are, I fear we would do ourselves injury. Also I do believe there is a perfectly good empty house waiting or for us, with a great number of surfaces we have yet to exploit to our advantage." 

“Is that so?” Greg didn’t stop nibbling at his earlobe as he spoke, making Mycroft shiver.

“May I remind you of your yesterday’s promise concerning the kitchen counter?” Now he got Gregory’s attention. He looked at him, eyes gleaming with desire.

“Move, now!” Greg jumped out of the car and swiftly walked out into the yard, adjusting himself in his jeans as he waited for Mycroft at the kitchen door. “For God’s sake Mycroft, will you please hurry up?”

Mycroft didn’t intend to, he sashayed slowly towards him and resumed unbuttoning his shirt from where Greg had stopped, exposing his pale chest to the setting sun. He hooked his thumbs under the braces, stretching them from his shoulders and moved his hands down until they slipped from his fingers to hang at his sides. Greg watched captivated as he stalked towards him predatorily and Mycroft let his shirt glide to the dusty floor, his skin gleaming like ivory. When he reached him, he put his hands against the door on both sides of Greg’s head and shoved his body forcefully against the wood to kiss him impulsively. Pulling back slightly, he whispered against his lover’s lips.

“Where do you want me, Gregory?”

“Let me show you.”

Mycroft heard him say before he felt his hand in his trouser pocket, fumbling around for the keys. Greg turned to open the door with shaking hands and Mycroft bent his head to drop a kiss on the nape of his neck which apparently didn’t help Greg focus on his task. Eventually the door swung open, Greg gripped the waistband of Mycroft's trousers and dragged him inside. Spun around, he was suddenly pressed against the kitchen island in the middle of the room.

“Right here, lay down.” Greg ordered after biting gently into his shoulder and making him whimper weakly.  

Mycroft sat down on the counter and caught Greg’s lips in a demanding kiss before he lay back on the cold marble. With a firm grip on his hips, Greg pulled him closer and Mycroft spread his legs to wrap them around his waist, groaning as their groins were pressed together but with too much fabric in between. He arched into the touch as Greg’s hands were roaming over his stomach and chest but when his tongue played with his belly button, the last drop of patience drained out of his body.  He pushed himself up and gripped Greg’s neck to press their foreheads together.

“Go get the lube, I will be naked when you come back. Do not ask me if I'm sure, I know perfectly well what I want and right now, I want you to fuck me as hard as you can.”

In wordless reply, Greg brushed his bottom lip across Mycroft's mouth and exhaled audibly, his breath ghosted over his wet lips. Then he stormed off and Mycroft hurried to get undressed before he came back. He was so quick that he even had enough time to drape himself deliciously on the counter; legs spread wide, his left hand tucked under his head and his right hand fondling his balls.

The look on Greg’s face when he returned was one of those he would happily replay in his mind to brighten up bad days. He was still clothed and came to stand between Mycroft’s legs, stroking both hands up and down his thighs, watching how he touched himself. He opened the bottle of lube and let a few cool drops drip on Mycroft’s cock, making him hiss. 

“Touch your cock, show me, I want to see how you touch yourself when you think about me fucking you.”

With his left hand Mycroft reached down and gripped his cock into a loose fist, stoking it lazily. The thumb of his other hand was massaging his perineum while the other fingers still played with his balls. Under Greg’s gaze he felt the heat pooling in his groin much too quickly, he had to bite his lip to keep himself from going faster and began to whimper obliviously.

“Gorgeous, I could watch you for ages. But that’s enough now you sensual beast. Hands away from your cock and start to prepare yourself for me while I get rid of my clothes.”

He picked up the lube bottle as if following this man’s orders was the most logical thing in the world, it didn’t even occur to him that he would’ve done anything Greg demanded at this point. He shuffled further back on the counter and angled up his legs to reach down and make himself ready. Greg’s hands were back as he was about to add a second finger, stroking up his calves and down on his inner thighs and as his thumb brushed his scar, he moaned deeply.

“Gregory, please!”

“Just a bit more My, just a bit more.”

Torturous minutes later, he felt Greg’s erection pressing behind his balls as he pulled him closer. Letting his fingers slide out, he automatically wrapped his legs around a now bare waist.

“Yes, that’s it. But you have to come up here to slick me up before I can fuck you senseless.”

Mycroft sat up and looked at Greg who returned his lust filled gaze. His legs still firmly placed around him, he stroked his length slowly with his slick hand, watching as the sensations he caused showed on his lover’s face. Dropping his head on Greg’s shoulder, he flicked his tongue over a patch of skin which would soon be shining bright red and began to suck. After finishing his mark with a not so gentle bite, the need to unite with Gregory was beyond all bearing. He noticed Greg’s erratic breathing and lay back down.

“I need you now Gregory.” He squeezed his waist with his legs, indicating the urgency. “Now!”

And _now_ was what he got, Greg shifted in his tight embrace to bring himself in position, already pushing inside agonisingly slowly. Not nearly fast enough in his opinion. Mycroft pushed back down until Greg was all the way inside of him, groaning deeply as he felt his body adjusting to be filled so suddenly.

“Hnnng My, if you want me to come right now just keep going. Jesus Christ you’ll be the death of me…”

“Move, Gregory! We made love this morning, just fuck me now, will you?”

He closed his eyes and arched his back, awaiting Greg’s first thrust. He was held firmly by his hips and as Greg started moving, he knew he wouldn’t last long either.

“Harder Gregory, you won’t break me… Oh yes, like that…”

“My I… I can’t keep up that pace without… Oh God I’m so close already.”

Enjoying the desperate sounds his lover was making in order to restrain himself, he began stroking his cock in the rhythm of Greg’s frantic thrusts.

“Don’t you dare think of stopping!”

Seeing how hard Gregory was trying not to come was unbearably sexy. His eyes were squeezed shut and he was biting his lip, his flushed chest glistening with sweat, the red mark on his shoulder nicely visible.

“Open your eyes and look at me. See what you do to me Gregory, never before have I allowed anyone to fuck me in such a manner. Only you Gregory, only you.”

Greg’s eyes flew open and savouring the sight before him, his thrusts lost their rhythm and a few seconds later Mycroft could feel his cock swelling inside of him, stretching him even wider. Suddenly they both cried out each other’s names at the same time, their eyes met in wonder and ecstasy as they rode on the waves of pleasure together.

As Greg’s body slumped forward onto his chest, Mycroft let his legs drop weakly. Feeling beautifully exhausted he looked down where his partner’s heaving chest smeared his come between their bodies and waited for their heartbeats to slow down. Running his fingers proudly over the love bite he managed to place on his lover’s skin, he sighed satisfied.

Greg spoke first, raising his head to look at him through sleepy eyes.

“Come on My, let’s get cleaned up and then I want nothing more than to drop dead onto the sofa with you on top of me. I have to leave soon and just want to hold you a little longer, without moving if that’s possible.”

His hand rose to grip Greg’s hair possessively. He had thought about the ending of their weekend several times today, always with an aching heart, but that it was already so late, shocked him. Time was fleeting when his Gregory was with him.

“Yes.” was all he could say, stroking his cheek softly. “Yes...”


	15. Whatever it Takes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song for the final chapter is ["Right Here Waiting"](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xxf_iTav9XU)  
> from Richard Marx, actually a very important song for the chapter. 
> 
> As a treat for all of you who stayed with me though all 15 chapters, I put all the songs of the story into a playlist. So if you liked the soundtrack, [here it is.](http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgDQ8AtYMtolgsr_2vLWRt4HP_gA93qZj)

 

_~ Greg’s POV ~_

Greg couldn’t enjoy it, not really. Not with the dim light outside reminding him that he should be on his way home already. He had dressed and packed his bag before they retired to the sitting room. Now Mycroft was draped decadently over him, lying between his legs with his head resting on his shoulder. Greg’s hand drew lazy circles on his back, enjoying the soft, cool and silky fabric of his lover’s dressing gown, whilst thinking of the amount of paperwork that was without doubt waiting for him in the morning. He sighed heavily, stirring Mycroft from his slumber.

“Are you well, Gregory?” He looked up at him and Greg saw a flicker of insecurity washing over his face.

“My, you know I have to go, as much as I’d love to stay. I didn’t bring my work clothes and even if I had, do you want me promenading over the Yard’s car park in my leathers?”

“Heavens no!” The jealous gleam sparkling is his eyes was quite endearing, making Greg chuckle low in his chest.

“I thought as much. I’d probably need two hours in the early morning traffic to drive home, another hour to the Yard and I’m sure you already know I’m due in at 8 in the morning. Meaning I’d have to be up at 04:30 and still far too sleepy to drive safely.”

“A plausible argument, my dear Gregory. However, would you do me the honour of spending 5 minutes of your precious time waiting in my absence? For I would very much like to dispose of an issue before your departure.”

“Sure, I won’t be leaving without a proper good night kiss anyway.”

Mycroft’s smile appeared slightly nervous as he swung himself off him. Greg watched as he rushed out into the hall and could hear him padding up the wooden stairs barefooted. He was quite sure he was just heading to the loo and leant back against the sofa cushions, letting his gaze wander through the room. Like Mycroft’s bedroom, it was filled with dark, Victorian furniture but they sat side by side with modern pieces, working perfectly even though it probably shouldn’t. His eyes hooked on the black piano in front of the oriel window. He hadn’t played since his divorce because his old piano stayed at the house, he just practised with Sue now and then. The sheet music her piano tutor provided leant more towards 90’s pop music and while not really being his idea of great music, he couldn’t deny she played them beautifully.

Hesitating momentarily he went over and sat down on the piano bench, thinking about what he could play. But no song in his repertoire could cover what he felt right now. On one side he was as happy as he could be with Mycroft at his side, but because of how perfect it felt since yesterday, he was afraid he wasn’t able to face what their relationship would become like in daily life. Before he found out his wife was cheating on him, he had thought he was doing a good job managing being a loving family man and a successful Detective Inspector. He knew it wasn’t his fault, Iris had never voiced her unhappiness with him working too much and being away from home so often, and in the end it wasn’t him who had been unfaithful, but he couldn’t help taking a bit of the blame. He should have noticed it earlier to prevent the worst. Maybe the marriage was lost before, but he could have saved Sue the knowledge that her mother did what she did. It was horrible when she found out, she wanted to live with him and was shouting that she hated her mum but they all knew it wouldn’t work that way. It had taken a bit of time for the three of them to get to the point they were at now, friendly meetings with his ex-wife when he picked his daughter up for a weekend and no shouting when he brought her back home.

That was when a melody popped into his mind, one that Sue had played when he stayed for dinner for the first time since he had moved out. It was one of those soppy love songs he only liked because she was playing it and singing along proudly in her clear voice.

His fingers flying over the keys, he tried to remember and improvised the missing parts. He played for a while, it sounded more and more like it and he murmured along the few lines he memorized.

“Whatever it takes, or how my heart breaks, I will be right here waiting for you… I wonder how we can survive, this romance. But in the end if I’m with you, I’ll take the chance…”

He had closed his eyes, lost in the melody and would have jumped had the voice in his ear not been so soft and loving.

“I didn't know you could play.”

“Surprised you again, eh?” Greg turned his neck to look up at Mycroft who stood close behind him. “But I can’t _play_. Not like you I bet. My dad taught me a few songs and I learned to play from memory. Can’t read notes or play epic classical pieces, so I really can’t claim to be a good player.”

“Don’t hide your light under a bushel. It was breathtaking, Gregory.”

“Really? Well, if you say so…”

“I do.” Mycroft kissed his temple and stepped around. Greg shuffled a bit so he could stand between his legs, leaning against the keys and managing to create a harmonic sound as he sat down slightly, smiling down on him.

“Stay. Please.”

“Listen My, I already told you that it wouldn’t be a good idea. We can meet for dinner next week, yes?”

“I am afraid my schedule next week will not allow us the time for an undisturbed dinner.”

Greg sighed and as he let his forehead fall against Mycroft’s chest, he felt fingers brushing through his hair. That Mycroft paid so much attention towards his hair made him smile, he seemed to be very fond of it.

Holding his head pressed against him, Mycroft spoke again.

“Would you still wish to leave if an appropriate suit was provided and I assure you that you would arrive at New Scotland Yard at precisely eight in the morning without having to rise at an ungodly hour?”

Greg raised his head, looking up at his lover suspiciously. “You… You _arranged_ something again, didn’t you?”

Mycroft just did this sexy eyebrow quirk, the one he failed to resist since he first saw it.

“I’d love to stay.” He stood to hug Mycroft close, noticing as the pent-up tension left his body at the contact.

“Then let me escort you to our bedroom, I must admit that sleeping naked at your side was most pleasing.”

“Yeah? I would find it even more pleasing to see you walking up the stairs in all your naked glory first.”

In a swift motion he undid the knot of Mycroft’s dressing gown. The shocked look on his partner's face vanished as a mischievous smile took its place when Greg pushed the silk off his shoulders. Slowly, Mycroft turned to sway out of the room, leaving Greg, who was staring at him open mouthed, behind. He hurried to catch up because Mycroft Holmes, flouncing up the stairs stark naked was truly a sight to behold.

*

The next morning was beautiful. If he had left Sunday evening, Monday morning would have begun in quite a depressing fashion, having to face waking up alone and then dragging his tired self to the office, lethargic from a terrible night’s sleep. But now, he was sitting in the back of one of Mycroft’s limousines, the man of his dreams sitting close beside him, their entangled hands resting on his knee.

Waking up with your loved one in your arms and sharing sleepy morning kisses was a refreshing way to start the day, sharing a shower even more so. Only the suit that had been _delivered_ worried him a bit. Of course it fitted perfectly, but he was sure that he couldn’t even afford the shirt if he were to ask how much Mycroft had paid for it. Not that he would allow him to pay it back, but still. He was going to have to learn to get used to this new kind of lifestyle. 

Looking over to Mycroft, he caught him raking his eyes over his new outfit and had to admit that, yes, he looked pretty good in the dark grey suit and the purple-white striped shirt. It even felt much nicer than the cheaper ones he usually wore. He’d probably get used to it quite quickly, especially when it made Mycroft so happy and let him smile so contently. Looking out of the window as the car drove out of the yard, he could see that the garage door was still open. Side by side, his black bike and Mycroft’s crimson car stood close together, no longer alone.

Squeezing Mycroft’s hand as they drove along, he knew that whatever it took to make their relationship work, it would be worth it. Worth every cancelled date, worth every dinner that had gone cold and worth every sleepless night. Without doubt there would be waiting on both parts, but it would be waiting done with hope.

 

\---

[_Greg’s new suit_ ](http://www.sherlockology.com/media/608736/secret-state-2.jpg)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dear readers this is the last chapter, but this is not the end. I’m already working on part 3 so stay tuned! It will probably be a little more serious because the daily life is not always sexy and we'll meet Greg's daughter. 
> 
> I’m so grateful for all the kudos you left and all the beautiful comments, thank you all for sharing your thoughts which motivated me and kept me writing. 
> 
> I know I’ve already said that a few times but I can’t keep myself from repeating it: Without my dear friend Erasmus_Jones, this story wouldn’t be what it is. I couldn’t have done it without her. Thank you so much, Sweetie, for everything.


	16. Fanart

[NEW FANART](http://astudyinink.tumblr.com/post/55975823869/fashionstrade-01-greg-in-bikers-leathers-as): I requested a Biker Greg fanart for this story and the wonderful [Mita](http://mitarashi8.tumblr.com/) drew this gorgeous piece of art for me. If you love it too, go and tell her! :D

Thank you so much Mita, it's really perfect. More than perfect actually, just as I imagined him.

 

 

And [another one](http://astudyinink.tumblr.com/post/58520673719/fashionstrade-02-greg-in-an-old-outworn-and)! Mita, you are the best! Please enjoy Greg in his favorite football shirt:

 

 


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